Betrothal
by AuntiePanda
Summary: The agreement was made; Edward, the Crowned Prince of England would be wed to Isabella the Princess of France, upon her sixteenth year.
1. Prelude

**Summary: The agreement was made; Edward, the Crowned Prince of England would be wed to Isabella the Princess of France, upon her sixteenth year.  
Word Count: 2,070**

**Beta: Lfcpam - Thank you for your help so far :)**

**OK****, so this is new territory for me. I am a bit of a history nerd; it fascinates me, though I have never posted anything set in the past. ****This story is very lightly based on the love story between Queen Victoria and Prince Albert (The Young Victoria) as I love that film and their story in general. There are very obvious differences of course, as Isabella and Edward barely know each other when they get married, they have to grow to love each other. It's not as romantic as The Young Victoria, at first, at least I hope I can write romance! Well, see :P Thanks for checking out the story, hope you enjoy it. **

**Abbie. **

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Prelude

_November 1821_

A light dusting of snow covered the dirt road. It made the journey border on hazardous but His Royal Highness had refused to cancel. Today was of vital importance to his kingdom and to that of his daughter's happiness. The girl child lay resting across from him, her stern governess clutching her tight; keeping her steady and safe from the carriage's sharp movements. She had fallen into slumber after they had embarked on the final leg of their journey. The child stirred, and her delicate brunette ringlets fell over her face. Her governess gently swept the girl's hair away from of her eyes. The carriage swayed and jerked as they trekked further north over the uneven terrain. His Royal Highness was honestly surprised that his daughter had slept through most of their journey, but he was glad that she had. She would be well rested when they arrived, which would work in their favour. They would be expected to meet their host almost immediately upon arrival. Although he knew his daughter was used to this particular hindrance, they had travelled far to be here and their journey had not been the most pleasant.

The sky began to change into an array of indigo and purple hues, the sun concealing itself behind the dense clouds. His Royal Highness noticed the imposing stone structure as the carriage trundled onwards. The estate stood strong against the vividly beautiful backdrop of the setting sun. Should his plan go smoothly, then this would be the place his daughter would live once she was grown. He had not tried to explain to Isabella, the reasons behind their visit; he had not seen the benefit. She would understand one day, that he had done everything in her best interest. His half-year old son, Prince Emmett, would inherit his titles, his lands, and fortune. The only thing that His Royal Highness could offer his daughter was a large dowry and a sensible husband; the young Prince Edward would serve as the latter.

His Majesty the King of England; Carlisle II had three children, two sons and one daughter. Prince Edward being the oldest at age six, his siblings; Prince Jasper, a year his brother's junior, and the Princess Rosalie who was still at her nursemaid's breast. His Majesty the King of England, and His Royal Highness the King of France had agreed upon a betrothal at the birth of his son Emmett to the babe Rosalie, but now he had to negotiate another; a promise of marriage between his daughter and Prince Edward. He had no doubt in his mind that his friend and ally would grant him his wishes, but he had thought it best to bring his daughter to the English court; show off her beauty to His Majesty the King of England and his son.

The carriage approached the wrought iron gates that lead to the estate. A guard called for the carriage to halt, and approached the driver. Words were spoken softly and the gates thundered open, much the young princess's distaste. She groaned an unladylike sound and stirred awake.  
"_Have we arrived, Papa?"_ she asked, gazing sleepily across the space at her father and King.

"_Almost, my dearest,"_ he replied, looking fondly upon his first born daughter. She rubbed at her eyes harshly, only for her governess to scold her for the display of unladylike behaviour. The Princess answered the reprimand with a tired scowl at the carriage floor. She was not best pleased at being told off in front of her Papa. The carriage jerked to a stand-still, and the child's governess grasped her firmly to prevent her from falling. Jostled but unharmed, the young Princess and her governess followed, His Royal Highness through the carriage entryway.

A line of His Majesty's guard awaited the French royal party. The leader of His Majesty's guard stepped forward to greet His Royal Highness the King of France.

"Greetings, your Highness, His Majesty the King of England awaits your company in his study," the man spoke with purpose and held himself in the posture of a nobleman. His Royal Highness was disappointed by this form of greeting, but swallowed his feelings of annoyance in the hopes of keeping peace with his friend and fellow ruler.

"He also requests, that Princess Isabella accompany you," the nobleman continued, glancing in the girl child's direction, "her charge may also attend."

His Royal Highness nodded curtly and motioned for the leader of the guard to show them the way. He had been to his friend's winter residence only once, and was glad of the escort, as the halls would have puzzled his travel worn mind. It took only mere moments to arrive at the intended destination. The leader of the guard announced the French party to their host. The King and Queen of England stood dressed in their finery, their young son; the miniature of his father, all but the colour of his hair, stood rigid beside his mother's full skirt.

"Your Majesty, His Royal Highness the King of France, the Princess Isabella of France and her governess; the Lady Claudette Bouvier," he introduced. His Majesty the King of England nodded at the leader of his guard, a signal for him to depart. The nobleman took three backwards steps before turning to leave, closing the door with a gentle snap behind him.

"My dear friend, I apologise for the formalities, please take a seat and we will discuss the matter that you have travelled far to bring to my attention," His Majesty apologised, turning to take a seat beside the roaring fire and gesturing for the rest of the party to do the same. Before he sat however, he turned to his son; "Why don't you show Isabella your marbles? I am sure she would be pleased if you showed her how to play the game." he suggested. The young prince sighed with displeasure; he had no interest in playing with a _girl_. He nodded however and said not a word in argument. The little girl stood almost hidden behind her governess's skirt and visually shrank away from the older boy as he approached.

"Madam, my father has requested that we play together, is this agreeable?" the Prince offered formally before taking the bag of marbles from his pocket. The little girl ducked behind her governess and the older woman chuckled at the shy child's reaction.

"_Come now child, do not be afraid, he only wishes to play."_ her governess whispered encouraging in French. The timid Princess brought herself out of hiding and nodded gently at the other boy. He appeared as uncomfortable with the situation as she, but the children played as best as their language barrier would allow, while the adults in the room discussed their future.

"Your son is already betrothed to my daughter, if we go ahead with this betrothal, both of your children will be married to a child of the English throne, are you most certain about this decision?" His Majesty the King of England enquired. His wife sat silent beside him, she would speak to her cousin when the opportunity arose. She had many questions to ask about her sister's death, she knew the cause but that didn't make the blow any easier to digest. She studied her cousin's aged face and knew how much he was hurting; he loved his wife above everything else. The cost of a male heir had been too high of a price to pay in his eyes. She returned her attention to the conversation and focused on her cousin's reply.

"I am most sure, my friend. I am of the understanding that my daughter will find no better suitor than your son. When she marries Edward, she will have a kingdom and a chance to rule at his side, with Emmett's birth, this is the closest I can offer her to a succession." His Royal Highness the King of France explained, hoping his friend would agree to the marriage. He wanted Isabella to have everything she rightfully deserved. After several stillborn son's, he had given up the hope of a male heir. Isabella had begun training to succeed as Queen last year; this being the exact reason that a union between the Prince of England and the Princess of France had not been sorted before this day.

The King of England smiled warmly and glanced across the room where his son was tentatively trying to explain how to play marbles to his mute companion. The girl was a potential beauty, there was no doubt as to that fact and she would be an acceptable match for his son. There was not a single doubt in Carlisle's mind as he agreed to Charles' offer. The union between their two great countries would occur five years ahead of schedule.

"So, we are agreed?" His Royal Highness enquired, "Your son will marry my daughter when she is of age?"

His Majesty nodded, "I trust Isabella has a sizable dowry?"

"That she does, my good Sir. You will be pleased with all I offer, that much I promise." His Royal Highness replied, pleased with the result of their discussion.

"I will send for my scribe and then we shall draw up the terms of the betrothal," His Majesty told him while rising swiftly from the armchair. He was as eager as his companion to have their agreement in writing, and swept from the room to summon his scribe.

The Queen seized her chance at her husband's absence.

"_You are hurting, my dearest cousin."_ she stated in her mother tongue.

Her cousin diverted his gaze, he did not like where this conversation was heading. His wife's death was still a fresh wound and he was not willing to discuss it.

"_She was my wife, I miss her more with each passing day but there is nothing to be done._ _So forgive me, cousin, fore I know you share my pain but I cannot speak of it."_

"_I understand Charles. You must remember that I am here, should ever you need me." _she replied, noting the now visible hurt in his brown eyes and deciding at the sight of it that she would not press him on the matter.

"_You and your family have done much for mine already this night, I ask no more from either of you."_ he told her, meaning his words. He needed nothing more from his ally and friend, than the security of his daughter's future.

Esme paused in her reply as her husband returned, his scribe following obediently a few steps behind him. The men discussed the finer points of the betrothal, the most important being Isabella's virtue. His Majesty the King of England made his opinions clear that if the girl's honour was sullied in even the slightest manner, the betrothal contract would be voided. He had heard lots of rumours about the women of the French court and he would never allow his son to marry a woman who had already been bedded. The chance was slim, and His Royal Highness the King of France had the decency to look offended.

"I promise you, my daughter will be as pure on her wedding night as she is this very day." the King of France stated adamant that he spoke the truth, "I will personally make sure that Isabella has no contact with any man unsupervised until the day Prince Edward takes her to his bed."

"That is reassuring to hear, my good friend." His Majesty replied,

"My daughter remaining virtuous is a given however if you will allow it, I wish for your son to be the same." His Royal Highness suggested gently as he was not sure how this request would be received. He was surprised at his friend's reaction; as His Majesty began to laugh hearty.

"You wish to deprive my son of a little fun before his wedding?" He asked, his question almost lost in laughter. "I see no reason as to why he should remain virtuous, but if you request it my friend, consider it done."

His Royal Highness look appeased by this and after detailing the finer points of the contact; involving dowry and other such necessities, both men signed and sealed the parchment with their coat of arms. The agreement was made. Edward, the Crowned Prince of England would be wed to Isabella, the Princess of France upon her sixteenth year.

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**OK so that's the prelude, I've written about 3 chapters, and am working on Chapter 4 at the moment. I have bits of this story planned in my head, but not the whole thing mapped out, so bare with me. **

**In case anyone reading this is also reading Future on your Doorstep, I am so sorry that I haven't updated in a while, I seem to have a hit a wall with that story. I started writing Future when I was 18, and I'm now almost 21, I've grown up and I'm just can't easily get into Bella's head any more. There is only a couple of chapters left though, so I will attempt to push through it and end it. I apologise again though :( **

**Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. There is more to come, I will try to update once a week, I'm hoping that should make me write fast :) *Fingers crossed* **

**If you're feeling kind enough to drop a review, then please be as brutally honest as you as can :) My critic, who I normally force my work onto, is without a computer, so any feedback would be a great help :) Thank you for reading :)**


	2. A Long Time Coming

**Summary: The agreement was made; Edward, the Crowned Prince of England would be wed to Isabella the Princess of France, upon her sixteenth year.  
Word Count: 2,574**

**Beta:**** Lfcpam - Thank you for all your help :)**

**I update early :) I finished chapter five early so I figured I'd be kind :) **

**Firstly, thank you to everyone who reviewed, favourited and put this story on alert :) I am very grateful :) ****and before I forget, as I forgot to mention it last time, His Majesty refers to Carlisle and His Royal Highness refers to Charlie. You probably already guessed that, but I thought I'd mention it in case you hadn't. Anyway, on with the story...**

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One

A long time coming…

_Twelve years later…_

Late March 1833

Isabella gasped as her Ladies-maid tugged hard on the corset strings; the air in her lungs being forcibly evicted.

"_Angela, I can barely breathe, does it have to be so tight?" _she enquired, clutching her cinched in waist. She was aware that a sixteen-inch waist was expected for her age and an hourglass figure was highly fashionable but did achieving such have to cause so much discomfort?

"_Yes, My Lady." _her ladies maid replied, "_His Royal Highness only wishes for you to look your best."_

Isabella gazed into the mirror, spotting her reflection. Her eyes were tired and her skin appeared pale from crossing the channel only yesterday. It was not the most pleasant of journeys and it had not been kind her. The visiting royal family had been offered rooms at the palace to recuperate before the meeting. She was not looking forward to the meeting; in only a few hours' time she would meet Prince Edward - the man she was to marry.

It had been rather a long while since they had last been in each other's company and she was not certain as to the outcome of this meeting. What if he was displeased with her? They would surely have to marry regardless and then what would become of her? Married to a man who would never love her but would have to share her bed for the greater good, whether he wished too or not. At the age of sixteen, it was hardly a prospect to inspire day dreams. She sighed in defeat and remained silent while Lady Weber and her two other Ladies in waiting, assigned to her from the English court; Lady Clearwater and Lady Stanley, dressed her. The garment sat heavy on her person; layers of dense shimmering grey-blue fabric drowned her. She studied the frock closely; it seemed adequate, with delicate sliver embroidered patterns, elbow length bunched sleeves and a white lace trim._Very English, _she thought, masking her distaste.

_"Who chose this colour?" _she remarked to Angela, "_It is dreary."_

Lady Weber smirked at her mistress, but morphed her face into a more appropriate expression at the sight of the other Ladies confusion.

"_Lady _Stanley_, Your Highness." _Lady Weber answered and attempted to hide her concern, as Lady Stanley glanced over at the mention of her name. The Princess noticed the other woman gazing in their direction.

"_Tell her I admire her taste."_ she commented, not untruthfully, "_It is exceptionally English."_

Lady Weber tried not to grin at her Mistress's sarcasm, as she translated the _'compliment'_ to her fellow Ladies-maid. Lady Stanley looked pleased and beamed proudly over at the Princess Isabella. A few moments past before the three ladies continued on their quest too make the Princess presentable to the English court; where she would be introduced later this afternoon.

Once her hair was in place, Lady Clearwater wove fresh flowers into Isabella's chestnut locks. The English ladies deemed her ready and smiled at their handy work. Princess Isabella gazed at her reflection; _Papa will be pleased, I appear every part the English Queen that I am destined to be, _she thought, somewhat bitterly. She longed from France, the home comforts and the choice of dressing the way she wished. She would never have chosen such a plain colour, deep blues and purples suited her complexion far better; all this frock did was make her appear sickly. She did not approve. Her approval mattered little in this instance however and she soon found herself being ushered from the room. It was time. She had waited twelve years for this day; the day she would meet him again. It was the moment of truth and there would be no backing down. She sucked in a deep breath, and tried not to dwell on the feeling of unease that turned her stomach.

"_All will be well, Princess." _Angela whispered,_"Prince Edward will love you, the moment he lays eyes on you."_

_"And what if he doesn't?" _she replied in an undertone, her fear getting the better of her. At that moment, she didn't look like a Princess prepared to do whatever was her duty, no, instead she looked like the frightened young girl that she truly was. Lady Weber, who had been her friend and companion since a very young age, pulled Isabella into her comforting embrace. Lady Stanley and Lady Clearwater did nothing to disguise their disapproval of the show of affection.

"_My dear Bell, all will be well, I promise you. He will love you, for who could not? Once he knows you he will fall for you, wholeheartedly. You deserve happiness, Your Highness and do not except anything less."_

Lady Weber released her and the Princess smiled up at her friend, she would truly be lost without her guidance and continued reassurance.

"_Thank you Lady Weber, for everything." _she thanked her, taking her friend's hand in her own.

"_You say that as if it is farewell my Lady, so let me reassure you now. If you are to stay here, then I will also, if you will have me," _Lady Weber rushed to reassure her. The Princess beamed; delighted to hear it, although she was slightly sceptical as to whether her English husband would allow her to keep her French companion. She did not share this concern however, as her English acquaintance's began ushering her towards the great hall.

Music and voices reached her ears as they lead her down a wide grand staircase. She saw her Papa awaiting her arrival at the bottom of the stairs. Isabella had led a very sheltered life and she had never attended anything without her Papa's presence; today would be no exception. Her Ladies scurried behind her now, not daring to precede the Princess or His Royal Highness into the hall. Isabella glanced nervously at her Papa and swallowed her fear.

"_Chin up my beautiful daughter." _he requested, taking her arm and tucking it inside his own. She did as instructed and held her head up high. _This is it, _she thought as the doorman entered the hall to announce them. Silence fell and her resolve nearly crumbled. Isabella clutched her Papa's arm tightly, seeking reassurance that he could not give her verbally.

"Introducing, His Royal Highness the King of France and the Princess Isabella." the doorman announced. Every head turned in her direction. The music quieted and a blush threatened to ruin her careful composure but she kept calm and strode with purpose to the opposite end of the room. She tried not to frown when she stopped before the Royal family. She spotted two young men of a similar age, one with auburn hair, the other blond; she could not understand it, _which one is Edward? _she thought, distressed that she could not recognise her future husband at first sight. The young blond glanced curiously in her direction and she decided that he must be Edward, as the other man had not offered her a single look.

"My friend." His Majesty greeted warmly, "Welcome to my home and my country, it has been too long."

"That it has indeed." His Royal Highness replied, "I trust after this month, I will have more cause to visit your country and in a few years, your family with mine."

The King of England smiled, and after a moment his eyes fell onto the Princess. She took a deep breath and focused on greeting the King instead of worrying about the young blond Prince.

"Allow me to introduce my daughter; the Princess Isabella of France."

A crowd-pleasing smile graced her features and she took his offered hand and sank into a curtsey.

"Rise dear one." he spoke with fondness and she rose at his encouragement. "Princess Isabella, I welcome you to court and hope against hope that you will find a more than comfortable home here."

His Majesty could not help but think towards the young beauty's happiness. His son was sensible and almost cold towards the fairer sex. He wondered with worry, as to how the girl before him would cope with such a man. He was very pleased however, the young woman facing him was very much the beauty he had believed she would be and he hoped his son would be satisfied with his bride.

"Your Highness," she replied, her accent lingering upon every English word, "it is a pleasure to meet you, at long last,and I hope for the same outcome."

Her English was almost perfect; the tutor they had sent for her had most certainly earned her wage.

"The pleasure, my dear child, is entirely my own." he commented truthfully. "It is a delight to finally meet another woman, whose beauty rivals my wife's." He had waited years to see his friend's daughter and he was indeed in awe of her. She was a shy creature and had the decency to blush at his words.

"Your Majesty, you flatter me with your words. I am not deserving of them." she replied, looking most uncomfortable at the compliment. He knew when he saw the complete innocence in her eyes that his friend had kept to his word; Isabella was as pure today as she had been at age four.

"Nonsense, my dear." he told her briskly, before turning to his left where the auburn haired man stood; his posture regal and serious. Isabella's heart sank into her stomach with His Majesty's next word.

"Edward?" he called to the Prince, "Do you not believe our Isabella to a beauty?"

She had been wrong in her assumption. The man she had thought to be her betrothed was Prince Jasper; she felt terribly silly for the confusion and was grateful that neither man could hear the workings of her mind. The delicate blush on her cheeks deepened from rose to scarlet as his scrutinizing emerald eyes glanced her way. She looked up, forcing herself to meet his curious stare. A spark of an unknown feeling ignited within her, _maybe Angela was right, maybe I will find happiness with him, _she hoped. Her hopeful thoughts were dashed however, as his stare turned cold and he glanced towards His Majesty.

"Yes, your Majesty." he replied simply and without feeling.

His Majesty's face fell for an almost unnoticeable moment before he forced himself to smile for the benefit of present company. Isabella's eyes had turned almost desolate at her future husband's reply and with the sight of her downcast gaze, His Majesty became determined to make her happy once again. He would personally coach his son through the next few weeks of social etiquette, if that was what it took.

"How about we strike up some music and let the festivities begin?" he asked of his friend. His Royal Highness seemed delighted at the prospect of ending this conversation. He was very aware of Prince Edward's indifference and he was not best pleased; _did the insolent young man believe himself too good for my daughter? _His Royal Highness mused internally as his friend ordered for the music to continue. Isabella stood uncertain for a moment before the Prince appeared before her.

"My Lady, my father has requested that we share a dance, is this agreeable?"

The image of a small, awkward but proud boy surfaced from the deepest part of her memory. Prince Edward had asked a very similar question on the very first time they met.

_Oh lord, _she thought, before forcing herself to smile and reply.

"Of course Your Highness, it would give me great pleasure." she responded, offering her hand out towards him. He nodded and led her onto the floor.

His hand felt feather light against her waist, as he took hold of her. Her warm, smooth skin brushed his, as they grasped hands and the fire; ignited by his gaze moments before, scorched her insides as their skin touched. She had to wonder; did he feel the same as her? Could he feel the passion he stirred from within her, with one touch alone? She glanced up into his eyes and found her answer, _no, he did not_. Isabella willed herself not to cry or embarrass herself with any such display and allowed Prince Edward to lead her in the Waltz. She followed his lead, as he scowled across the room and refused to speak, but after a moment or two she could not bear the silence any longer.

"You must find me not to your liking, if being forced to share a dance with me has caused such a scowl." she stated, attempting at a light-hearted tone. His eyes meet hers briefly before replying.

"I am not scowling." he insisted, as he clutched her hand tight in his in order to control her movements.

"I disagree." she told him, allowing him to guide her through the steps that she knew better than her second language. He glanced down at her again, but this time held her gaze for several noticeable heartbeats before he answered her comment.

"You are very much to my liking." he confessed in a whisper, the music ended as he spoke. He released her suddenly, as if touching her caused him pain. Although, she would admit it to no one but Lady Weber, she was saddened at the loss of his touch. He placed her arm through his much like her father had before and returned her to his side. He bowed his head and thanked her for the dance. She was still rising out of her curtsey when he turned on his heel and vanished from her sight.

"_What a curious man.,"_ she muttered to herself a few moments after his departure, unaware that Her Majesty the Queen was within hearing range.

"_That he is, dear heart, but worry not." _Her Majesty whispered quietly, looking towards her eldest son's retreating back, "_He may not be as transparent as the men in our home land but he is not as unfeeling as he allows himself to appear. You will learn as much with time."_

Isabella turned towards the older woman and concealed her surprise well. She took a moment to herself; to think through the new information she had been given.

"_I hope you are right,_ _Your Majesty." _she admitted, feeling bold and perhaps a little daring for answering honestly, "_I very much wish to understand your son."_

Her Majesty laughed lightly at the comment and her husband glanced in the women's direction at the sound.

"Always English." she muttered quietly to herself. The Princess looked up inquiringly at her. The Queen smiled softly and explained her behaviour to her companion.

"You will understand one day, English men prefer their women to behave as English women do. I offer you my unending support; Lord knows you will have need of it. My advice for you Isabella, always talk English. The English man does not like to feel excluded from a conversation." she glanced over at her husband, "Even if he was never a part of it."

Isabella gazed up at the Queen in wonder, she felt like the woman had spoken in some sort of code but was grateful for her insight nonetheless.

"It is a beautiful dress." Her Majesty complimented loudly, adding "I will see you at dinner."

And then she was gone, heading gracefully over to her husband taking her seat beside him. Isabella's thoughts had never been so jumbled, all she could hope, as she watched the Queen from across the room, was that the time for dining would arrive swiftly.

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**Hope you enjoyed chapter one, and that you'll come back from chapter two... See you next week :)**


	3. Earning her Favour

**Summary: The agreement was made; Edward, the Crowned Prince of England would be wed to Isabella the Princess of France, upon her sixteenth year.**  
**Word Count: 3,060**

**Beta: Lfcpam - Thank you for your help! :)**

**Hello again...**

**Need to say thank you for the overwhelming response to the last chapter, 16 reviews might be much to some authors on here but that's loads for me :D I couldn't believe it, posted the chapter before bed and woke up to 42 emails... my poor Blackberry lol Thank you all so much :)**

**As a few pointed out in reviews, Edward is a bit of an arse (ass for the american's out there) in the last chapter. Try to put yourself in his place, he has no experience at all with women, at her fathers request. **_**He's not as unfeeling as he appears**_**, as Esme put it. He's not that much of a jerk I promise, it'll just take a lot of effort to show his feelings, but you'll find out in this chapter.**

**Chapter Two...**

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Two

Earning her favour,

Seated beside a lady whom she did not know and opposite a man who refused to meet her gaze; she found the dinner to be one of the longest she had ever been forced to endure. Courses of fine cuisine were sent her way but she lost interest in the food; she could not stomach another heavy course. Her Papa glanced sternly in her direction as she moved remnants of the roast duck around her china plate. She placed her silver fork lightly down beside her plate and resumed pretending to listen to the awful Duchess who occupied the seat beside her.

"-so I told my husband, and this is exactly what I said to him; I told him, 'Sir, a velvet gown is simply not appropriate for such an occasion, it must be satin,' and do you know what he said?" the woman continued to chat in Isabella's direction. She was tiring of the endless chit-chat and muttered quietly to herself in French. Hoping that the women beside her would not understand her words.

"_I wish I had never married you?"_

The women beside her made no comment at first until a deep throaty chuckle sounded from across the table. Her future husband was clearly well versed in her language and knew exactly what she had said. He found her comment highly amusing.

"What was that, my dear?" the Duchess' reply was heard clearly over the sudden silence; the talk at the table had hushed at the rare sound of Prince Edward's laughter.

"Forgive me, I said, 'I do not know'," Isabella quickly replied, hoping the Prince would not expose her lie. Talk resumed as Isabella's words floated, dull and lacking of information towards the other guests. They were soon swept away towards their own conversations and Isabella glanced shyly in his direction. The Duchess continued to natter but she no longer held the Princess' attention. A serious expression had found its' way back onto Prince Edward's face but Isabella felt reassured as to his character. He had shown her tonight that he was not as cold as she had previously thought. Bearing in mind she had barely spoken to her betrothed, she felt that she was already beginning to grasp aspects of his personality. Isabella glanced back at the Duchess, only to catch His Majesty's eye.

The older man looked upon her in awe, completely taken aback by the young girl. His son had laughed; it had been such a long time since he'd heard the sound escape him and it had been something the Princess had unknowing said that had caused it. His Majesty studied the pair for the remainder of the evening and retired to his chamber, a long while later, sorely disappointed that he had not witnessed any exchange of consequence. He had summoned his son to his room, shortly after diner.

"You wished to see me father?" The young prince questioned his father, as he stepped cautiously into the room. It was unheard of for his father to command his attendance in his bedchamber; the young Prince was more confused than he had ever felt.

"Speak plainly son," His Majesty requested. "You found something amusing during dinner, did you not?"

"I did father." Prince Edward replied, his confusion showing as plain as day on his normally composed face, "Forgive me, but I was unaware that finding a comment entertaining was not to your liking."

"On the contrary Edward, I have not heard you laugh in a great long while and I must admit, I am most curious to know what was said in order to invoke such a response from you," the King inquired, his curiosity consuming him.

The Prince knew he would have to reveal Isabella's comment but was a little worried that his father would not find it as amusing as he had. He swallowed back the very slight feeling of unease and shared the young Princess' idea of wit with his father. Fortunately, his father and sovereign grinned and chuckled lightly at the tale.

"Tell me honestly, son," his father began. "I need to know your opinion of her."

Prince Edward frowned; he was not sure why his opinion was of any importance. He was going to marry the Princess Isabella in a fortnight's time whether he found her agreeable or not. It truly mattered not.

"She is a pleasant girl." Edward replied simply, unwillingly to confess the feelings that her presence had awakened in him. He was unsure of what it was that he felt for the girl but he knew that desire was a part of it. _The wedding cannot come fast enough,_ he thought, not that he had any clue as to what to do on his wedding night. Part of the marriage contract stated that both husband and wife would be pure and virtuous on their first night together. Suddenly, the young Prince began to fret, how would he please her? What if he could not complete the act? They would remain childless for the entirety of his reign.

His Majesty studied his son and watched as his pleasant, almost reminiscent expression turned to dread.

"What troubles you son?" he enquired, hoping his son would admit his fears so that he could ease them. Prince Edward composed himself and a false appearance of calm transformed his worried face into a serene mask.

"I am well father, do not trouble yourself with my internal musing." The Prince reassured his father. "Have you all the answers you sought?"

His Majesty the King of England sighed unhappily, but dismissed his son from his presence regardless of the questions that whirled around his over-active mind. This evening had given him a lot to think about, of that he was most certain.

The young Prince strode towards his chamber, his valet; Sir Benjamin Cheney keeping step with him. They did not converse until the Prince paused mid-step. A familiar voice floated from a slightly open door to his left. Unaware of the eavesdroppers outside her door, the Princess confided, "_When he touched me, I felt this feeling. A feeling I have never felt until this day."_

"Sire, we should not linger here." The Prince's valet whispered, all too aware of their current surroundings. He glanced around nervously.

"Just a moment/" the Prince murmured, straining his ears to hear their conversation. Sir Cheney had never seen the Prince act this way; he was completely astonished at the show of such inappropriate behaviour.

"_My Lady, he has awakened desire within you," _Lady Weber replied, the smile on her face evident in her tone. "_I told you he would love you."_

The Princess sighed_, But that is the problem, I do not believe he felt the same. _She told her gloomily. "_It was too much to hope for I suppose."_

The Prince was saddened by her sudden change in mood, he cared deeply for the woman he was too marry and desired her greatly. It had taken all his strength to control his thoughts while they'd shared a dance, he had been glad only a moment ago that she had felt the same.

He may barely know her, but the Princess had filled his every thought since he was child. He had few memories of her week-long stay in England, back when they were children but they had been forced together most day's and he had taken to like her. The young Prince had noticed her absence from his life the moment she left for France and had longed for today for so many years. He had ruined his chance at happiness with Isabella but he was clueless as to how to behave around her. His father had kept him away from the other ladies at court, explaining that he must remain virtuous until his wedding night – something the French King had insisted upon.

"_Oh my lady, do not speak this way_." Lady Weber implored. "_I witnessed the light in his eyes as you danced, and I was not the only one at dinner to notice his laughter. I am told it is a rare sight."_

"That it most certainly is." The Prince's valet commented, slightly louder than he had anticipated. The Prince's irritated gaze landed on his valet's and he did not look pleased.

"My apologies, Your Highness." the man hastily apologised, knowing he had over stepped a boundary. The Prince did not scold him however, not wishing to take his attention from the ladies conversation for long.

"_You are wrong, Angela," _the Princess muttered solemnly._ He was cold towards me; he was cold towards us all. Except a whispered confession and a quiet burst of laughter, I have no reason to expect anything more."_

_"You claimed you felt something towards him, My Lady, and this is only the first meeting. Give the poor man a chance to show you he cares." _Lady Weber proposed, trying to reassure her mistress. Much to the Prince's surprise she appeared at the gap in the open door, her eyes meeting his. The Prince looked alarmed at her sudden presence and rushed to apologise. The Princess spoke before he had a chance; neither the Prince nor Lady Weber interrupted her.

"_I already feel as if I will love him dearly and I know he will never feel for me as I do him." _The Princess stated sadly from inside, the Prince's expression must have showed his feelings clearly, as Lady Weber made a study of his face.

"_I do not believe that, my Lady,"_ Lady Weber replied, holding the Prince's gaze. "_Maybe he has not shown outright but give the man a chance to show you. I am of the understanding that he cares for you more than it seems. I am sure he will find a way to show you his feelings."_

The door closed then with a light snap of the lock and the Prince stood still for a moment, digesting and accessing the situation. He did care for Isabella,whether what he felt was love, he knew not. He had to show her, like Lady Weber had urged him, but how to do it?

"Sire, are you quite well?" his Valet enquired, worried by the expression on his master's face. Sir Cheney had never seen his master lost in such deep thought. He was normally a very strict man, who never paused to think before following the instructions of his superiors.

"She believes me to be heartless?" he murmured in reply, "I know she is right, I have given her cause to think it, but there must be something I can do to put this right?"

His valet surveyed the Prince carefully before inquiring;

"You truly care for her?"

The Prince looked toward his valet and replied quietly almost as if he spoke to himself.

"I feel something for her, of that I am certain. Benjamin, you must help me, I have to prove to her that I am not heartless and unfeeling," his valet looked alarmed at being addressed by his forename. "You are familiar with the ways of women?"

Sir Cheney felt his face heating up at such an inappropriate question. Such a question would have been fine to ask, in the lounge over a glass of port, but they were not behind closed doors; they were outside the Princess Isabella's chamber.

"Sire, I do not feel that question appropriate given our current location." his valet muttered, the Prince nodded coming to his senses.

"We shall discuss this more in the morning." The Prince ordered, muttering his parting words quietly to himself. "I am very much lost in this instance."

_Three days later_…

Sunlight fell from the heavens, bathing the expansive garden in comforting warmth. A sparrow twittered about happily on the gravel path but Isabella paid no attention to the bird from her perch on the decorative bench. She was enjoying the sunshine, her bonnet tilted upwards towards the sky. Lady Weber mimicked her mistress' position as they chatted about the Princess' up and coming nuptials. Both ladies were unaware of his presence at first and continued discussing the wedding procession.

"_We are to leave via the Abbey, travel all the way along the Thames until we reach the Palac.," _Isabella informed her charge, Lady Weber took a moment to think over the plan. She was about to reply, when a small movement gained her attention.

"Your Highness." Lady Weber squeaked, soaring up out her seat. She had not come this close to the Prince since she had caught him eavesdropping outside the Princess' chamber. The Princess bolted upright, in an almost unladylike manner at the sudden interruption. She collected herself, took a few short breaths and rose delicately from her seat.

"Your Highness, to what do I owe the pleasure?" she inquired, surprised to see him on the one day they had been allowed to remain apart. Looking thoroughly awkward and unsure of himself; the young Prince mumbled,

"I have a present for you."

Sir Cheney had advised him on this matter over a glass of Port, only two days previous. He had encouraged the young Prince to choose something he thought that Isabella would like. Edward had dwelled on the idea of a present for a couple of days and had come to an unusual decision. It had taken him a long time to reach this decision, but once he had made it, he knew he'd made the right choice.

"Will you accompany me into the house?" he requested, waiting until she nodded before offering her his am. She slipped her gloved hand through his arm and they walked in near silence towards the imposing building. Lady Weber chaperoned the couple on their small journey.

"May I ask, what is it that you intend to present me with?" The young Princess questioned; she could not help herself, she had to ask. The Prince smirked, as if he would just tell her?

"You may ask, but I shall not give you an answer." he replied, turning to hold her gaze, perhaps for longer than was entirely proper. The Princess blushed sweetly at the attention; she had never seen him behave such. In the week that she had spent in England, her future husband had made himself scarce at every available opportunity.

"That is hardly fair." she told him, pretending to pout. The Prince stopped then, halting their movement towards the Palace. He hesitated, his eyes filled with indecision as to whether he should say what he wished too.

"You must only ever smile." he whispered almost inaudibly, his gloved hand reaching out to stroke her delicate cheek. She could not help it, his words and touch triggered the corners of her mouth to lift. The man before her was so confusing, he continually puzzled her but when he said something profound it touched her heart and soul. She could not deny that she was attracted to the Prince; she felt more for him than she had towards any other gentleman. Her heart beat faster and her eyes closed of their own choosing as she leant into his gentle touch. The Prince appeared almost shocked at her reaction and he forced himself to take a step away from Isabella. She seemed disappointed as he did so and he almost regretted the decision until he peered over the Princess' shoulder and noticed Lady Weber grinning smugly in their direction. She wiped the look from her face at the realisation that she had been caught and turned herself away from the couple; allowing them as much privacy as she was able.

"Shall we continue?" he asked gently, his voice returning to his usual formal tone. He gave the Princess a moment to compose herself. She did not speak and simply nodded, her tight curls bouncing beneath her bonnet at the movement. They reached the intended destination and the young Prince became suddenly nervous, what if she would have preferred jewels? He had taken quiet a gamble, that he had to admit, but he knew that if his memory served him as well as he thought, then she would be pleased by his choice. When she spotted the tiny bundle of dark fur from across the room; she looked up at him quizzically. His hopes dashed, he quickly tried to think of a different present. He would apologise for the canine and would get her jewelry, like his valet had suggested. _Next time, I will listen to Cheney_, he scolded himself, _he knows more than I in this instance._

Her tiny voice caught him off guard, "How did you know?" she asked, gazing across the room. The tiny dog lifted its head at the sound of her soft voice.

"My mother had one while you visited last," the Prince explained. "You continuously chased after the poor thing."

If his memory served him as well as he hoped it did; she had wished to play with it, only the small dog had no interest in being her playmate.

"I did? I do not even remember my last stay here," she asked of him, astonished that he could be so thoughtful. The puppy yawned and stretched on its plush cushion before tumbling down onto the floor and bounding clumsily in their direction. Isabella laughed at the puppy's antics and the young Prince gazed at her in wonder. The sound of her laughter filled him, lifting his spirits, and overwhelming his senses.

"Is he to your liking?" the Prince felt he had to ask, even if her body language told him not to fret. "I could get you something else if you wish it?"

The Princess sank onto the ground, the skirt of her mauve coloured gown flaring out around her. She took the small dog into the arms, muttering quietly too him in French. She appeared not to have heard his statement and petted the tiny tri-colour spaniel, gazing loving down at it. She moved her eyes off the puppy, to meet his emerald stare. She held her present snuggly in her grasp and looked up at the thoughtful man before her. He was such a perplexing gentleman. She hoped one day she would understand him, not that it mattered now. Maybe he did care for her after all; since he remembered something so insignificant. Seeing the concern in his eyes, she rose up gracefully, before replying to his earlier question.

"He is perfect," she muttered truthfully, _as_ _are you._

* * *

**N'aww... Bless them, Edward's so awkwardly sweet...**

**And yes her dog is another reference to Queen Victoria, can anyone guess what her little dog's going to be called? lol**

**Also, I have a stupidly easy challenge for you all, who thinks they can guess whose mother Isabella was talking to at dinner? Anyone who guesses right gets a preview of Chapter Three :)**

**Also I need you all to be aware that I'm only updating this faster, because I am uploading a chapter I have previously written as soon as a new chapter is finished. For example, on Wednesday I finished writing chapter 5 so I uploaded chapter 1, and now I've finished chapter 6 so I'm uploading chapter 2. I need to stay ahead of myself to prevent a lack of updates. Updates will not always be this fast as I'm back to work next week, though I'm sure I'll find time to write around it. When my writing slows, which I have no doubt it will, I am aiming to update once a week. Thanks :)**

**See you all next week... Cheers for reading :)**


	4. The Forbidden Topic

**Summary: The agreement was made; Edward, the Crowned Prince of England would be wed to Isabella the Princess of France, upon her sixteenth year.**

**Word count: 3,077**

**Hi *waves***

**First, a HUGE thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far! 19 reviews for the last chapter :D I was completely blown away, so thank you all so much :)**

**Very surprised that no one got the question right :O Anyway, you'll all find out whose mother the Duchess was in a few chapter time :)**

**So '**_**The Forbidden Topic**_**' I wonder what they're going to be discussing ;)**

Three

The Forbidden Topic …

_"Dash?" _The Princess called, as the little dog scampered away from her. She glanced to her left, where Lady Weber stood beside her. Her companion knew almost instantly as to the Princess' way of thinking. Their eyes met and Lady Weber expressed her concern with a look. The Princess picked up the hem of her skirts, and prayed to The Almighty that no one would witness what she did next.

"My Lady?" Lady Weber called worriedly, hastening after her mistress. The pair scurried after the tiny dog, as it weaved playfully through the halls of the Palace. The Princess did not glance back, fearing a reprimand, and instead charged up the grand staircase. The dog had a lead on them, and she was not willingly to give her pet anymore of a head start.

A young serving girl looked alarmed, bowed her head and sunk into a low curtsy, as the Princess flew past her. Dash disappeared through a door at the end of the corridor, which Lady Weber distinctly remembered to be the library. They had almost reached the library when a small, but exceedingly proud voice echoed through the empty corridor.

"Princess' do not run," the girl child exclaimed, horrified at the Princess' lack of decorum. Isabella halted in her tracks, and her ladies maid struggled to stop without running into her mistress. The girl had ringlets of golden hair, falling to her waist and violet eyes that shone with dignity. She wore a lavish gown; of amber and scarlet and held herself with the look of nobility. The Princess Isabella should have known then, who this particular child was, but having never come across her before, she didn't think twice before replying.

"That is true," she said in reply to the child, "but sometimes, child, there comes a time when 'walking swiftly' simply is not adequate."

Isabella was about to continue on her way, when the girl spoke again. The girl's eyes were alight with fire, and she spoke fiercely in her reply.

"How dare you call me child!" she spat, looking thoroughly offended, "I am the Princess Rosalie and I must say, _your highness, _I am a Princess who knows how to act with propriety!"

The Princess Rosalie stood indignant, while the Princess Isabella appeared affronted; never before had another noble spoken to her in such a disrespectful manner. She would forgive the child, fore she had been unaware of the girl's nobility and would never have addressed her, the way she had, if she had known. Now that she had been made aware, it was strikingly obvious that the girl before her was her cousin; who was destined to marry her younger brother. A stern, sour faced woman strode from the nursery then, and she glanced down at her charge in disapproval.

"Lady Rosalie, how dare you speak in such a manner, apologise at once," the child's governess scolded. The Princess Rosalie glared down at the carpet, before muttering a quiet, yet audibly apology.

The governess nodded at the child, before ushering her into the nursery with a simple command, "now finish your embroidery."

Once the golden haired child had disappeared from sight, the governess turned and bowed to the Princess Isabella.

"My Lady, I apologise profusely on behalf of the Lady Rosalie," she started, dropping her voice low and glancing around the corridor, "she started her monthly course this morning. She is normally a well-tempered girl, I assure you."

The Princess was unsure of how to answer such a statement, but nodded lightly, before turning away for the nursery. She waited until she heard the door close, and then set off at the previous pace. Lady Weber expressed her displeasure,

"My Lady, I must protest," she tried, hurrying after the Princess. Isabella did not hear her, however, as she reached the substantial pair of doors; they were painted white and were detailed with gold leaf; much like the rest of the extravagant interior of Buckingham Palace.

Isabella pushed into the room, without thinking to knock; only to find herself face to face with her escaped pooch. It took her a moment to realise that her little dog could not have reached her head height without assistance. She glanced up and her heart stuttered, her cheeks heating with embarrassment.

"My Lady," Lady Weber exclaimed pushing into the room. She sucked in a breath at the sight of him, sinking low to the ground as a mark of respect.

"Your Majesty," she uttered, before backing gracefully out of the room at His Majesty's curt nod.

Once they were alone, much to Isabella's anxiety and displeasure, His Majesty met her gaze.

"I wonder, did you know, my wife used to have a dog, very similar to this one," he stated, stroking the canine's soft tri-colour fur.

"I am most sorry, he got away from me," she gushed an apology, hoping he would not be cross with her. She sought his approval above all others, she wished whole heartedly that she had listened to Angela. _Lord, what must he think of me? _She worried internally, absentmindedly smoothing her skirt.

"Do not apologise, my Lady, I am not offended by his presence or the haste with which you followed for him," His Majesty explained, moving to hand the dog over. Once the dog was securely within her grasp, His Majesty settled himself into a chair, beside the fire, beckoning the young Princess to join him. She hesitated, aware that they were very much alone, before gracefully lowering herself into a seat, placing the dog in her lap.

"I am curious," His Majesty started, once the young Princess had taken a seat, "I do not remember this young canine accompanying you from France."

He did not phrase his words as a question, but she knew he expected an explanation.

"He was present, Your Majesty," she muttered, suddenly timid while in the presence of a very powerful and unfamiliar man. The King searched her face, her cheeks were still scarlet for her last bout of embarrassment, and he could not tell whether to fret over their colouring. He frowned, and folded his hands in his lap.

"May I ask from whom?" he enquired, not looking best pleased. She petted her canine companion for comfort, she felt very uncomfortable in this situation. She had never spent a moment alone with a man, even her father and brother, without the presence of another female.

"The Prince of Wales, my Lord," she mumbled, not daring to speak so informally as to refer to Edward by his first name.

His Majesty appeared shocked at her reply.

"The Prince of Wales? My son?" he asked hoping to clarify her meaning. He had never heard anything so unbelievable and yet, he hoped against all hope that he had not misheard her. Isabella nodded lightly, honestly surprised that His Majesty had not known of this already. Surely, the Prince had to ask before bringing an animal into his father's home? Clearly, he did not. His Majesty beamed at the Princess and future daughter-in-law.

"I knew you would be good for him," he told her softly. The Princess' blush renewed and she had to fight the urge to duck her head. She smiled delicately at His Majesty. A few minutes past by in silence, where His Majesty studied the young woman intently.

"I hope you will forgive me, Your Majesty," Isabella finally voiced her worries, wringing her hands in her lap, "but I have never been without my chaperon, and I know that you would never cause me harm or shame, but-"

His Majesty looked horrified at the realisation and instantly rushed to reassure her, cutting her off midsentence.

"My Lady, I apologise profusely," he spoke honestly; "You may leave now, my dear. I am sure Lady Weber will be anxious to be reunited."

She stood swiftly still clutching her dog and curtsied, before walking backwards towards the door. She turned upon reaching it and hurried to find Lady Weber. Her ladies maid greeted her, pulling her into her embrace and muttering words of reassurance in French at her mistress' obvious distress.

"_It's alright,_ _Bella,_" the young Princess calmed instantly, she had not truly been afraid of the King. The circumstance was what had caused her discomfort. Being alone with a man, however, was something she was going to have to become accustomed too. The wedding was rapidly approaching and panic bubbled in Isabella's stomach at the realisation. This Monday coming, she would have to allow Edward into her bed, a thought she had refused entry into her mind until that moment. She pulled out of Lady Weber's comforting arms and forced herself to gain composure. Dwelling on the matter would not accomplish anything; worrying as to what to expect when Edward called on her this coming Monday eve, would not help her. She needed to prepare and this was one thing that her ladies maid could not assist her with. She knew whom she wished to speak too. Her Majesty had offered her support, and Isabella was going to take full advantage of that promise.

_The next day…_

The Queen's sitting room was adjoined to her bed-chamber. Sunlight streamed into the room through the lace curtains, as Her Majesty sipped tea from a painted china cup. Lady Mallory, one of her ladies in waiting, hesitantly stepped into her line of sight. Her Majesty raised her eyebrows at the child, giving her signal to speak.

"The Princess Isabella wishes to have a private audience with Your Majesty, if you will allow it," Lady Mallory repeated the message, she had been asked to deliver.

Her Majesty looked surprised for a moment, before nodding her approval. Once Isabella was sat beside her, the tea poured and biscuits served, Her Majesty shooed her ladies from the room. Her majesty lifted her cup to her lips, took a small sip while accessing Isabella's posture. The girl held herself properly, but she could not miss the slight slump in her shoulders.

"What troubles you, my dear?" she enquired softly, placing her cup down onto the saucer and giving her future daughter-in-law her full attention.

"I hope you will not think me impertinent, but I had a worrying thought yesterday," Isabella started, choosing not to mention the encounter with His Majesty, "I am aware that normally, my mother would be the one to ask, but as she is no longer on this earth, I was hoping you would not mind."

Her Majesty had a vague idea that she knew where the Princess' rambling was heading. Her face was cherry red and she refused to meet her gaze, both valid reasons to assume Isabella was asking after the forbidden topic; her wedding night.

"Isabella, look at me child," Her Majesty requested, and the Princess looked up into her emerald eyes; eyes she shared with her son. Isabella forced herself not to think of Edward, his image in her thoughts would only bring her more discomfort at broaching this topic.

"You may ask anything you wish, I will not think less of you for being curious."

"I do not think that curious is the correct word, Your Majesty. I believe anxious sums up my feelings with this particular subject," Isabella replied, taking a deep breath before forcing the question out of her mouth, "What should I expect when he visits me on Monday night?"

Her voice was so timid; Her Majesty barely heard the question. She smiled softly at the younger woman, having been in her situation at a similar age and within a similar circumstance, she felt most sympathetic towards the young Princess.

"I do not wish to cause you worry or fear, but I shall be honest with you," Her Majesty explained truthfully, wishing her mother had been as open with her before she had married, "the first time he visits you, the experience will not be altogether pleasant."

Isabella's eyes widened and her skin paled, but Her Majesty knew that honesty was what all young girls needed at such a crucial change in their lives.

"Do not fret, my dear," she hurriedly reassured the young Princess, "I will explain more thoroughly." She decided, and finished her tea, before continuing.

"The first night you spend with my son, will be enlightening, embarrassing and somewhat violating. Do not fret," she encouraged at the look upon Isabella's face, "everything that is to happen is completely natural. It is an essential part of marriage, and it is through this act that you will conceive my son's children and become with-child."

Her Majesty could see the cogs and gears spinning inside the younger woman's mind. She was hopefully beginning to understand the importance of the act, and would allow herself to enjoy lying with her husband in the not too distance future.

"The act itself is, in the first instance, painful, only a sharp pain as he enters you and there will be a small amount of blood at this point."

Isabella's already pale face turned sickly grey as the colour drained, "Enters me?" she repeated horrified.

"Oh my dear," Her Majesty spoke softly; she'd said too much too soon it appeared. She rose out of her chair and went to Isabella's side. She knelt before her, the Princess too distressed to realise what her superior was doing. Her Majesty took her young companion into her arms and held her tight.

"I implore you not to fret, my dear child," she whispered as she clutched the young woman to her chest, "I did not mean to frighten you further."

"I shall explain," she continued, cuddling the young woman like she had with her daughter, not too many moons ago, "on Monday night, your Ladies will dress you for bed as they do every other night. When they leave, you will get into bed, as is the norm and when the time is right, he will enter your bedchamber. He will be dressed similarly to you; in just his nightshift and robe." She recounted her wedding night in almost perfect detail.

Her Majesty hoped that being open and honest with Isabella would prevent her from feeling violated, like Her Majesty remembered feeling when she had first spent the night with Carlisle. He had been gentle to her and she knew he'd cared for her, even then. It was the shock of allowing a man to be that imminent with her; it had gone against everything she had been taught as a girl.

"He will join you in your bed then, perhaps removing his shift first, and will, in time strip you of your own shift." Isabella whimpered at the thought and clutched her Majesty's gown tightly; hiding her face as if she were no more than the child she appeared to be. Her Majesty muttered words of comfort and gently rubbed the young girls back, in the hopes of calming her.

She knew she should probably cease her explanation, but given how the young Princess was taking the revelation, she decided the more information the girl had the better. It wouldn't do to break down before her husband on her wedding night.

"I tell you this, only to enlighten you, and not with the intention to distress you," Her Majesty assured her, "Would you like me to continue?"

After several heartbeats, Isabella detangled herself from the Queen's grasp, and they both stepped up from the carpeted floor. Mustering some semblance of dignity after her break down, Isabella blinked away remaining tears and swiped at her blotched face with a lace handkerchief. Her Majesty reclaimed her seat in her armchair, and waited patiently. The young Princess closed her eyes and took deep breathes, before turning to face her Queen.

"I am sorry for such a display," she muttered, her brown eyes still appearing distressed and tortured. She lowered herself down into the vacant armchair and looked up at the Queen.

"Please, continue," she requested, "I need to know this," she told herself firmly and Her Majesty nodded, giving her another moment, before continuing where she had paused earlier.

"This is the part you may find, most distressing, but I must inform you now, it is not always painful and once you are both comfortable, you will one day come to find that the act can be particularly enjoyable."

Isabella looked doubtful, but she would find out for herself soon enough. Her Majesty would have to encourage Carlisle to have a similar talk with their son. She couldn't decide if their being on even footing, would make the situation better, as they would have to learn to please each other together or worse, as he would not know how to please her? She chose not to dwell on the thought and would instead send her husband in Edward's direction before Monday morning dawned.

"Once you are both without clothing, he will position himself above you," Her Majesty paused, thinking of how best to explain it.

"Isabella, are you aware of where the blood of your monthly course leaves your body?" she queried, hoping the girl would nod, which thankfully she did. _One less thing to explain, _Her Majesty thought gratefully.

"Well, my dear, the man's anatomy is shockingly different from a woman's; between their hips they have an '_appendage_', for lack of a better term," she tried not to focus on Isabella's expression; the poor child was appearing more terrified with each word spoken.

"It is, with this part of their body, that they enter a woman's; the part of your body where you bleed?" Isabella nodded; she was listening and taking in everything Her Majesty felt was important to share.

She was horrified and completely repulsed at the idea of showing her body to another. Now she knew what to expect, she understand what '_remaining virtuous'_truly meant; fore no man had ever seen her in less than a summer dress and she had never partaken in the act, of which Her Majesty spoke. Come Monday evening, however, all that would change and she was most grateful to know what awaited her after the 'I do's'. She was apprehensive, but also eager for her wedding night. The sooner the awkwardness was over the better; she knew without a doubt that she wouldn't be able to look her betrothed in the eye until it was. With the information she was now privy too; their next meeting was going to be an awkward affair.

**It's got to be said, writing a 19th century sex talk... probably one of the most awkward things I've ever written, except the wedding night maybe...**

**Also, a few of you are probably wondering why I've mentioned their wedding being on a Monday. It was going to be a Saturday, until I stumbled across some old sayings from Victorian times...**

_**Monday for wealth  
Tuesday for health  
Wednesday the best day of all  
Thursday for losses  
Friday for crosses  
Saturday for no luck at all**_

**I then realised that Saturday is probably not a great day to get married then because it would be church the morning after, and I'm not sure now disrespectful that would have been. Also, which I'm pretty chuffed about, I just found out that Queen Victoria got married on a Monday! What a good guess :)**

**Until next time, I bid you all farewell...**


	5. I Thee Wed

**Summary: The agreement was made; Edward, the Crowned Prince of England would be wed to Isabella the Princess of France, upon her sixteenth year.**  
**Word Count: 2,865**

**First, thank you again for the amazing amount of feedback :D I hope I've managed to reply to you all, there are some people who have blocked PM so thank you to you guys who I couldn't thank personally :) I will say now that I am truly blown away by the amount of people reading and reviewing Betrothal :) It's great :D THANK YOU :D **

**So this is the wedding, I had to research all the weird traditions they had back in the day, it was very interesting :) Did you know that Queen Victoria's white wedding dress is the reason brides wear white? There was no set colour for a wedding dress back then, but as Isabella's character in this is based on Victoria, I think we all know what colour wedding dress she'll be wearing :) **

**Also, I'm not fond of this chapter, but since them getting married is pretty important, figured I had to write a chapter about it ;) Anyway, onto Chapter Four...**

* * *

Four

I thee wed…

April 1833

_Marry in April when you can, Joy for Maiden and for Man._

The morning dawned, bright and cheery. The Princess was already awake when the sun rose over the horizon; as were most of the Royal household. Today was the day; the most important day of her life. Today, she would marry Prince Edward and her status and titles would change permanently or until the day when she became Queen, and she hoped a great deal that that day would not arrive too soon. She had a lot of respect and love for her Queen and had no desire to replace her on the throne.

Butterflies danced around in her stomach, as her mind drifted back to her conversation with Her Majesty only three days prior. Her team of ladies primped and pampered her, while her mind was focused on what was to happen tonight. Her silk robe covered her undergarments, while her ladies in waiting prepared her hair and face for the grand occasion. Her waist length hair was combed, plaited and twisted into an intricate bun, before her ladies ushered her to stand. She did as was requested, and allowed her ladies to finish dressing her. Her wedding gown would be the most elaborate gown she would ever don, and she'd yet to see it. It took a further four layers of petticoat, before she was presented with her wedding dress. All four ladies carefully brought the garment down over her head. The Princess was left in awe of herself, as she accessed her appearance in the long mirror. The dress was made of heavy white silk satin and the finest lace. White was not the most common colour for ones wedding day, but she was told that His Majesty had insisted upon the colour; to symbolise her innocence and the purity of their marriage. She had no say in her wedding attire, but she was delighted with the gown nonetheless.

Lady Clearwater placed a shining silver sixpence into her slipper, before slipping the shoe onto her foot. Lady Stanley pinned her mother's diamond ringed sapphire brooch; a token her father had gifted her with the morning prior, to her dress. Lady Weber thought over the saying in her mind; _something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, and a silver sixpence in your shoe. _Her Lady had all but one; Lady Weber reached up into her own hair, pulling free a diamond encrusted hair hesitated then_, _would the others consider her actions beyond her rank?She may be the daughter of a Duke, but that did not make her her mistress' equal. However,the Princess was her close friend, and she would not let her go forward into married life without completing all parts of the popular saying. She would not allow mistune to befall her mistress.

"_My Lady?"_

The Princess focused her attention in Lady Weber's direction.

"_Something borrowed,"_ Lady Weber said, in way of explanation, the Princess did not murmur even a whisper of protest, and her ladies maid slide the clip into her mistress' hair. When she chanced a glance at her face, the Princess' brown eyes shone with tears. She reached forward and took her ladies maid into her arms, uttering a small, but heartfelt "thank you." After a few moments of fussing and preening, the ladies deemed her ready and all gazed at the Princess in wonder. Never before had they seen a slight so wonderful, as the Princess on her wedding morning. This would be a grand day, and they were all overwhelmed with emotion.

As was Her Majesty the Queen, as she fussed over her son's collar. It was not straight and she claimed it had not been properly starched.

"Mother, I wish you not to fuss," the Prince grumbled, his back to her, as Sir Cheney fastened his shirt cuffs.

"This is the last day that I can fuss you, my darling," Her Majesty claimed soberly, "after today; it will be Isabella's job to insure your collars are properly starched."

The Prince sighed, it had never been his mother's duty to insure such a thing, and it was his valet's responsibility, not his future wife's. Smirking, Sir Cheney went to fetch his jacket, and the young Prince turned to his mother.

"I am sure you can find reason to fuss over Jasper, he is in more need of it than I," the Prince stated, as his valet returned offering out the jacket to his master. He turned away from his mother and pulled on the high-collar jacket. It was bright red in colour; the traditional uniform of a British field marshal. His valet presented him with the final piece; the Ribbon of the Garter, a symbol of his contribution and involvement with the Order of the Garter.

He turned to face his mother again, and regretted allowing her into his chamber.

"Oh my boy," she gushed loving at the sight of him, "you look so very handsome."

He rolled his eyes at her compliment.

"I look like every other Prince on their wedding day, mother," he pointed out, he was not the first Prince of Wales to dress this way on their wedding day, and he would certainly not be the last.

"You are more handsome than all before you," she uttered, causing him to blush discreetly.

A knock echoed through the room.

"Enter," the young Prince instructed and the door openly slowly. A timid footman entered, he bowed low, before repeating the message he had been intrusted with.

"It is time, my Lord."

* * *

The sound of the organ echoing around the Abbey, caused fear to take hold of her heart. She had kept herself together until that moment. _I must not weep, _she urged herself. Her father approached her, pride shining in his eyes.

"_You are most beautiful, daughter," _her whispered, placing a kiss upon her brow, "_and you fill me with pride and happiness. You will be a good wife to Edward, and a great Queen when the time comes." _

Her father had never spoken so openly as to his feelings, and she was overwhelmed by the words that left him.

"_I hope you are right, Papa," _she muttered, not feeling confident about either of the facts her father had mentioned.

"_I am the King of France, my dear child, I am always right," _he boasted, grinning down at his daughter, before offering her his arm. She allowed herself a small smile and a giggle at the statement, before taking his proffered arm.

Her bridesmaids; all woman of the English court, that she had only today laid eyes upon, took hold of her train and kept pace with the Princess and her father, as they made their way towards the altar. In the distance, she could see the Prince and his brother, standing to the left of the Archbishop; their backs facing away from the aisle. The droning notes of the organ dulled her hearing, and allowed her to focus solely on where she was headed. She passed the thousands of wedding guests, as she was lead towards the altar. It took less time than she had previously expected, and before she knew it; she stood before the Archbishop.

Her father placed her hand into Prince Edward's. She took a deep breath and tried to ignore the feeling that surged through her body at his touch.

Silence fell throughout the Abbey, only for the deep, resounding voice of the Archbishop to break it. He welcomed the guests, but Isabella's thoughts were on the feelings she was currently experiencing. It wasn't until the Archbishop turned towards the couple, addressing the Prince first, that Isabella forced herself to take notice of the man of God who stood before her.

"Do you, Prince Edward II of Wales, Crowned Prince of Great Britain and Ireland, take the Princess Isabella of France, whom you hold by the right hand, to be your lawful and wedded wife?" The Archbishop questioned, in the verse he surely knew by heart.

Isabella's breath held in her throat, she knew he would answer as expected and not cause a war by refusing her hand at the altar, but she still felt a tiny spark of fear at the minute possibility.

His voice sent delightful shivers up her spine, as he replied to the Archbishop promptly.

"I do," was his predictable reply.

"Do you promise to love, cherish, honour, and to protect, forsaking all others, in sickness as well as in health, in adversity as well as prosperity, for better or for worse, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," he repeated, squeezing her hand ever so gently. She glanced over at him, without turning her head, hoping she had not misunderstood the small gesture of reassurance. The Archbishop turned in her direction, and she swallowed back her nervousness. If he could summon two simple words in reply, then so could she.

"Do you, Princess Isabella of France, take Prince Edward II of Wales, Crowned Prince of Great Britain and Ireland, to be your lawful and wedded husband?"

She paused, took a breath and replied, almost stuttering in her haste to form the necessary reply.

"I do," she uttered quietly.

"Do you promise; to love, cherish, honour, and obey, forsaking all others, in sickness as well as in health, in adversity as well as prosperity, for better or for worse, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do."

The Archbishop's speech did not end there, but she stared forward, as Edward clutched her hand tightly. She was not the only person at the altar to feel nervous or fearful; of that she was certain. The Archbishop's gaze lingered on the couple for a fleeting moment, before he turned his attention to the noble men and women in attendance.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you, their Royal Highness' the Prince and Princess of Wales."

The wedding breakfast did not last long enough; they dinned, danced and celebrated the Royal union long into the afternoon. The celebrations would likely continue after the young couple had left on their honeymoon, but for the newlyweds the celebrations, or lack their off, would have to continue in private. They bid farewell to the court and to their families; Isabella's gaze lingering upon her father. He smiled sadly, he had wanted this for his only daughter, but he was saddened to part with her. He would return to France before they returned to court; this would be the last time they would be in each other's company, for Lord knows how long. Isabella blinked away her tears, at the thought. She loved her father dearly, and she could not bear the thought of being without him, but she was married and she was English now. She would have duties here, in the English court, visiting her family in France would have to come under state business. In the minutes before boarding the carriage, Isabella detached herself from her husband and went to her father. She knew it was must have been considered improper, but she could not let him leave without saying it.

"_I love you, Papa," _she whispered, the statement for his ears alone. He embraced his daughter for the final time, and gently kissed her forehead.

"_As I you, dear child_," he replied quietly, before escorting her over to her husband. The Prince of Wales returned His Royal Highness' smile, and took his bride from him.

Prince Edward helped his bride into the carriage, before following her into the confined space. They would have to travel this way, within these tight quarters, until they arrived at Kensington Palace. It was not a long ride from Buckingham Palace, but the tension between the newly wedded couple made it appear so. An eternity of silence passed between them, he could visibly see Isabella's frame shaking, but he was at a loss for how to assist her. He found himself breaking the silence, just to query after her wellbeing.

"Are you quite well, my Lady?" he enquired timidly. She raised her head, and he noticed almost instantly, that her eyes shone with tears. His feeling of unease grew at the sight; he had absolutely not a clue as to how to handle this situation.

"I am well," she lied easily, "Do not worry yourself, as to my state of mind. I assure you, I am just a little tired."

He did not accept her excuse, but was content to leave the discussion there. She clearly did not wish to make him privy to her troubles, and who was he to argue? They had been married only a few hours, so he could hardly claim his title as her husband to force her confession. Not that he would ever force her into a decision. He had a lot of respect for the woman before him; she was two years younger than he and yet she took every aspect of their marriage in her stride. She had not shown a moment of weakness until now and he would forgive her for this display. He was not offended by her tears; after the last fortnight of balls, dinners, the ceremony this morning, and the farewell to her father, he would grant her excuse enough to weep softly. He would not disturb her grief and he turned to gaze outside the window. The light was fading, but the crowds had not dispersed yet. The common folk had gathered in the streets to celebrate the Royal wedding with one another. Edward quickly became envious of their joy, and turned his gaze onto the carpeted carriage floor.

"You are scowling again?" Isabella's quiet voice questioned across from him. He looked up and met her sorrowful eyes.

"I am not scowling," he muttered in reply, even though he knew that he had indeed been scowling only moments before she spoke.

"You were scowling then," she corrected, "may I ask, what caused such an expression?"

His first thought was to deny her the information she sought, however, his mind and mouth betrayed him.

"Everyone around us appears joyous as to our union, and yet, here you sit before me, saddened by the thought of being my wife."

Her face was horrified, "It is not the thought of being your wife that causing me heart ache. Just because I grieve for the life I have lost, does not mean I am not overjoyed by the life I have gained. I have come to care for you a great deal, Edward and I am honoured to be your wife."

A moment of silence past between them, Prince Edward pondered her confession and moved awkwardly to sit beside her. The carriage swayed as he crossed the space between them and he cracked his head against the roof. He swore, as he collapsed onto the bench beside his bride. She studied him with a worried expression.

"Are you alright?" she asked tenderly, rising from her seat and reaching over to examine the spot he'd knocked. _No blood, _she remarked gratefully, _mostly just a bump and bruise. _

"Will I live?" he enquired almost smirking. The sound of his voice alerted her to the closeness of his body. She had never brought herself this close to anyone before, let alone someone of a different gender. She was about to move away from him, when she felt his arm snake around her waist, holding her in place.

The atmosphere in this carriage drastically changed at their nearness to one another.

"May I try something?" He asked, after a moment of silence.

His eyes appeared hesitant, but at her nod, his hand travelled slowly up her back and found its way to the back of her neck. He paused there, using his hold on her to bring her mouth down towards his. She was tense and unsure, as he brought her closer. Prince Edward worried at first that his actions would frighten her, but he promised himself he would release her at the first sign of fear. As their lips met, the feeling he had felt when they danced returned; intensified, coming back stronger than before. It was obvious in her reaction that he was not alone in his way of feeling; Isabella felt the same. She moaned; a sound that caused him to stir inside his trousers. Her delicate fingers pushed under his hat, knocking it to the floor, and wound into his hair. She gently tugged at his hair, and he had to restrain himself from pulling her onto his lap. The urge grew strong within him, as their passion escalated into new heights. It was a simple kiss, but it was more than either had experienced before.

He drew back from her. He needed to breathe, clear his mind and calm himself before he forced himself upon her inside the carriage. He gazed up into her lust filled eyes, as she sighed and pressed her forehead against his. Her darkened eyes closed and a contented smile graced her face. The feelings within him still caused his heart to flutter and the muscles inside him to tense with anticipation. Tonight could surely not arrive fast enough.

* * *

**Yes, I'm mean, but the wedding night is coming up soon :)**

**Not altogether happy with this chapter, but its a bit of filler, because the wedding is necessary and had to be covered. I will say though, it was really difficult to find a copy of the wedding vows that had 'obey' in them, as its not used often any more. **

**Thanks for reading :) See you all again soon :) **


	6. A Night to Remember

**First, thank you again for an overwhelming number of reivews, favourites and alerts! I'm shocked, but extremely pleased :D**

**Now, I think everyone knows what this chapter's about, but I need to say now, I have never written a scene like this before, and I've tried to be tasteful about it. I'm a little worried a lot of you will be disappointed with it, as its not necessarily what your expecting, but try to remember Edward and Bella are inexperienced and are literally working off facts. But that said, I hope you enjoy it...**

Chapter Five

A Night to Remember…

The sky was dark and dotted with bright stars, by the time the young couple retreated to their bedchambers. Lady Stanley and Lady Weber unpinned Isabella's hair, changed her out of her gown, and prepared her for bed. Down the hall, Sir Cheney helped Edward prepare also, but in a very different way.

The Prince was pale with nerves, his hands shook and he unconsciously fidgeted with the shirt sleeve, as he paced the room. Sir Cheney watched half amused half concerned at the Prince's actions. The young man was truly terrified at doing his duty; it was all he had asked about since his bride had arrived at court only three weeks ago.

"What if I fail?" he asked a question that caused his valet to chuckle.

"Believe me, Sir, you will not fail," Sir Cheney replied, his resent laughter obvious in his voice. Edward turned to stare at him.

"Do I amuse you?"

Sir Cheney swallowed, "Of course not, Sir."

"Then why do you laugh?" The Prince enquired, appearing genuinely curious rather than angered.

Sir Cheney faced his master; Edward was two years younger than he and truthfully, he felt rather sorry for his master. The young prince had been left completely in the dark, when most young men in his situation would have visited the whore house once or twice by now. Those women could teach a man everything he needed to know. Something Sir Cheney knew first hand.

"You will not fail, Sir," he repeated, "trust me, once you are inside her, that feeling alone will be enough to finish you the first time."

He chuckled at the memory; his first time had not lasted long, and that women hadn't been pure. He couldn't even imagine how good that would feel. The Prince was a lucky man indeed. Edward looked relieved at his valet's words and, temporally silenced, he held out his arm for Sir Cheney to assist him with his cufflink.

"Benjamin?" The prince called hesitantly, as he fastened his robe around his middle. The time was upon them all too fast and Edward had only last question. His valet glanced up, looking away from folding his masters discarded clothes.

"Yes, my Lord?" He replied, unfazed by the use of his forename. Something he had grown used too over the last three weeks. Until Isabella's appearance at court, Benjamin had been under the impression that his master did not even know his first name, as he never used it. In fact, the prince had barely spoken to him until now.

"How do I please her?" the Prince muttered staring down at his slippers. The thought had only just entered his mind. He had been so concerned about failure that he had not even thought about how to bring Isabella pleasure, which according to his father was a possibility.

Sir Cheney paused, thinking it over for a moment. He turned away from his duties to face his master. The Prince's face was redder than he'd ever seen it. The sight was amusing, but he dare not laugh, and he couldn't bring himself too. He couldn't imagine not knowing what to expect on his wedding night. It was a strange request on King Charles' part, it had to be said. He pulled his mind back to where it should be; his master's question. How to please a woman was a broad subject, there simply wasn't time and for tonight, he was almost certain that there was no need.

"I would not worry as to how to please her tonight, Sir. The most important thing you can do for her tonight is to be gentle and to take care not to hurt her more than is expected."

The prince nodded, his father had mentioned that much in their brief discussion about his wedding night. _Take care, go slow, do not cause her more discomfort than is necessary, _he remembered his father's words clearly. At least his valet was confirming something he already knew. It was good to hear the same information repeated. The Prince took a deep breath and thanked Sir Cheney for the reply.

"I think it is time," he muttered, half excited half terrified. The feelings didn't mix well in his stomach. He felt sick with the nervous flutters, but tense with longing to kiss her again. He had never experienced anything like that feeling and he was eager to feel it again.

"Of course, Sir," Sir Cheney replied, and escorted his master to his bride's bedchamber. Lady Weber slipped out the door, as they draw near. She eyed the approaching gentlemen with a look of anxiety. She knew that this had to happen. His mistress would not be truly wed without this experience, but she was worried for her. She lingered outside the door, knowing she should not, but unable to stop herself. The Prince eyed her quizzically once he reached her. He was pale and tiny beads of sweat had begun to form on his brow. She knew he was nervous and her words would not help him, but she would not sleep until she spoke to him.

"You appear troubled Lady Weber, is Isabella quite well?" he truly looked concerned as he queried her expression.

"She is well, Sir," she replied swiftly. A moment of silence past between them, before she drew herself up to full height, still only reaching his shoulder, and faced him bravely.

"_She is special, my Lord,_" she stated, the Prince's brow furrowed at the change in language, though she knew he understood her, "_treat her right, my Lord and, no matter her feelings, she will repay that kindness until her dying day. You do not know how lucky you are to have such a woman." _She finished what she wanted to say and did not linger a moment longer.

"_You are mistaken, Lady Weber, I am very aware of how lucky I am to have her as my wife,"_ The Prince replied softly, though his voice carried after Isabella's retreating ladies maid. She paused and turned to see him facing in her direction.

"_I will take care of her, my Lady, you have my word," _he promised, and Lady Weber smiled. Feeling a confusing mixture of emotions, Lady Weber nodded in his direction, excepting his promise.

"I shall hold to you that, Sir," she told him, and continued on down towards her chamber.

The door creaked quietly and Isabella sat up straight, suddenly feeling the beginnings of panic. What if she was not to his liking? What if she did not please him? The worries plagued her mind until he stepped into the room, his posture timid and nervous. She felt her face heat at the sight of him, barely dressed in only a robe and nightshirt. She had been expecting this, but quite frankly, she hadn't known exactly what it was she was expecting.

He hesitated at the door, lingering there longer than was probably necessary. She swallowed and forced the uncomfortable feelings down, where they could not ruin her composure. Once calm, she sent a reassuring smile in his direction. The tension in his shoulders dissipated at the sight of her gentle reassurance. He should be the one comforting her, not the other way around. This experience would cause her pain, whereas it would bring him pleasure; surely she should be the one in need of reassurance. He took in a deep breath, and crossed the room towards her. She was still smiling kindly, as he reached the side of her bed. He had truly never felt nerves quite like he did at this moment. He stilled there for a few awkward minutes. At the sight of his uncertainty, Isabella forced herself to take charge of this situation. She reached for the cover and softly pealed it back; inviting him to join her.

He visibly swallowed, and she could take the silence no longer.

"Edward?" she called, hoping to bring his attention onto her. His eyes shot up to meet hers. The sound of his name uttered from her lips caused something to stir inside him. The feel of her touch inside the carriage earlier that day came back to him, the memory crystal clear and he felt himself hardening at the thought. Feeling self-conscious, and not wishing to frighten her at the sight of his arousal, he hurried to hide his situation by slipping under her bed covers. Her sheets were warm from her body heat, only fuelling his state of arousal. He sat awkwardly beside her, closing his eyes for a moment and counting to ten inside his head. He needed to calm down before he proceeded.

"Are you well, Edward?"

He forced his eyes open and was met with her worried stare. Her concerned face was mere inches from his; her bright brown eyes studying his face. He sucked in a breath and nodded.

He reached towards her, knowing he had spent too long already worrying. It was time to move forward, nerves be damned. His hand brushed along the back of her neck, holding her still before drawing her towards him. Their lips met, and excitement took hold her rational thought. Spurred into action; she pushed herself closer to him, reaching a hand into his hair, and gripping him tightly. He groaned and she felt herself becoming damp down below at the sound; an unusual but not unpleasant feeling she had to admit. Their level of closeness escalated rapidly, as they tangled together. The simple act of kissing soon turned heated and, spurred on by Isabella's encouragement, Edward moved to lie above her.

The feel of his body pressing down upon hers, even with the fabric barrier caused the fire to ignited, blazing fierce and untamed within her. He paused above her, seeming at a loss for what to do next. She found herself taking charge once more, at the sight of his indecision. She reached her arm around his neck; her fingers twisted in his delightfully soft hair and she pulled him down unto her. His lips crashed ungracefully against hers and they moaned simultaneously at the sensation. He throbbed with longing at the sound, something she was unaware of until she felt him brush against her thigh. Butterflies sprang to life in her belly and she kissed him fiercely. She was not sure where such passion had come from, but she was grateful for the feeling; it spurred her onwards. Their lips moved clumsily, but perfectly together and she didn't tense when he pulled away from her. Her face was flushed as was his, and his breathing was laboured as he spoke awkwardly.

"Are you happy to proceed?"

She nodded and found herself giggling awkwardly at his formal tone; this situation was anything but formal. She felt somewhat excited, due to the feelings he had stirred to life inside her. Her nerves had retreated at the arrival of the new feeling.

He tugged his nightshirt off, and moved hers up so that it bunched above her hips. She was puzzled; Esme had told her he would remove it. The thought was forced from her mind, as she felt him adjusting himself by her entrance. He did not linger there long, and after a moment, nudged into her gently. His gentleness seemed not to matter. She cried out, biting her lip hard and digging her nails into his shoulder. The pain she had felt was more than she had been expecting. His movement stilled, and he took in her shocked and pained expression. He leant down and whispered an apology. She looked up into his eyes; he appeared horrified at his own actions. She felt the sting of tears betray her true feelings, and saw the guilt he felt reflected in his eyes.

"I am so sorry," he muttered again, brushing away her tears with the pad of his thumb, kissing her with exaggerated care. He waited for her to calm, giving her as much time as she needed.

"Do you wish me to stop? I can stop… I can leave," he asked, and she was sorely tempted to ask him to leave her because of the discomfort he had caused her, but her unknown feelings for him wanted him close. The pain had begun to subside anyway, now that he was still inside her. She would never ask him to leave. She would do her duty to him as his wife.

"I would never ask that of you," she replied, her voice shaking slightly, knowing more discomfort was to come. His lips meet hers again, gentle but urgent all the same. She tried to lose herself in the feeling of his lips against hers, but the attempt was in vain.

The pain, that had been fading, fired up once more as he shifted within her. She wrapped her arms around him, clinging onto him as he moved, burying her face into his neck, so that he would not see her wincing each time he moved. The act that Her Majesty had attempted to prepare her for did not last long. The ordeal was over almost as soon as it had begun. He collapsed upon her, his skin slick with sweat and his heart beating fast. She wrapped her arms around him; regardless of the pain she felt, and the discomfort the act had caused her, she still cared for Edward. She ran her fingers lightly through his moist hair, and he kissed her softly.

"I am sorry," he whispered again, and she shook her head. It truly did not matter, she would heal and it was done; over. She winced as he pulled out of her, the pain lessening to a dull ache, as he laid himself down beside her. She did not move straight away through fear of the pain returning. After a moment or two, she shifted slowly, moving into his embrace. He appeared shocked at the gesture, but smiled widely, taking his new bride into his arms. He was disappointed in himself, and as he held her close, he began to think of a way to apologise to her, in a way that words could not. In his warm, comforting arms, Isabella found herself falling into slumber, the lateness of the hour and their recent activities had taken their toll. Her wedding night might not have been a nice experience, but she was grateful that she had experienced it, and even more grateful that Edward had been the man she had experienced it with.

Morning dawned bright; the sun illuminating the sky with its presence. Streams of sunlight broke in through the curtains; falling upon her face, lighting it in the darkness. She stirred and opened her eyes. The first thing she realised was that she was alone; he was gone. She bolted upright to survey the room, the inside of her legs screaming at the sharp movement, but he was nowhere in sight. Her face fell, why did he leave? She could not understand it. She felt hurt at his disappearance. A noise outside the door alerted her to her ladies in waiting. Lady Weber gently pushed on the door, and beamed when she saw her mistress.

"Good morning, my Lady," she said still smiling broadly, until she caught sight of her mistress' expression. She ordered the other ladies to prepare her a bath; to give them some privacy to talk, before heading over to her mistress.

"_Are you well, my lady?" _she whispered urgently,worrying greatly as to her ladies solemn appearance.

"_He's gone," _she muttered frowning, looking down at the spot beside her. Lady Weber frowned, a very unladylike expression. She was puzzled, she had to admit; she had not been expecting that particular statement.

"_And that saddens you?" _she enquired, unsure as to whether to be joyful or concerned.

Isabella nodded, "_I rather enjoy his company."_

Lady Weber smiled, "_That is something to be grateful for, my lady. It should not sadden you that he is not here. It was not his choice to leave; we are all to journey to Wales this morning."_

"_So I did not displease him?" _she asked hurriedly, her face alighting with hope. Lady Weber was saddened to hear that her

"_Oh Bella, he did not leave because you displeased him," _Lady Weberrushed to explain, "_My lady, he left here in the early hours of the morning, and I am told he was grinning like the cat that had the cream." _She told her mistress fondly, giggling at the thought. The Princess beamed at Lady Weber's words. She had never been more happy. Their activities last night still caused her discomfort, but she was glad that he was pleased, that he had enjoyed their night together. She started to reply to her ladies-maid, when Lady Stanley appeared.

"Your bath is ready, my Lady," she told her. Lady Weber sighed, but rose up smiling. The Princess Isabella giggled at the expression on her face.

"I will come now," Isabella replied, moving out of her bed. She flinched at the ache in between her legs, but did not allow the discomfort to hinder her.

Lady Stanley and Lady Clearwater set to changing the linen, as soon as she was near away from the bed. She was surprised at their haste. On a normal morning, her ladies would wait until she was submerged in the bath water, before taking her used sheets to the wash. Isabella glanced in their direction, made curious by their actions. With the covers pulled back, she saw why they had hastened. The white linen was stained scarlet in places. The Princess was horrified; she knew the experience had pained her, but she could not even have imaged shedding blood from the act. She thought back to her talk with Esme and remembered her mentioning it in passing. She calmed; it was normal to bleed. She was comforted by the thought, and with her mind on last night, allowed Lady Weber to lead her into the washroom. She would wash away last night's discomfort, and prepare herself for the long journey that awaited her that day.

**Thanks for reading, Abbie :)**


	7. Education

**Hello again, **

**First, cheers for all the amazing reviews :) Sorry it took me a little while to reply to all of them. Thanks again :) **

**So I'm not 100% about this chapter either as it has yet another M scene in it, but I'm sure its not as bad I think it is. Hope you like it :) **

* * *

Chapter Six

Education…

The journey across the country took many hours. A gentle nudge at her shoulder blade woke her. Her husband smiled fondly at his bride, as she roused from her broken slumber. She rubbed at her eyes and groaned, a most unladylike sound, which caused her husband to laugh openly. He truly marvelled at how his wife acted; he was in awe of her. He sat across the carriage from her, taking in the sight of her with hungry eyes. Despite the fact that they were both bordering exhaustion from the tiresome journey, he longed for bed; for a reason other than sleep. He understood now, why men adored their wives and, more discreetly, their mistresses. He had never felt true pleasure until last night, and he wanted desperately to be alone with his wife again. The sight of her dishevelled appearance did nothing to deter his need for her. If anything it only heightened it. The thought of causing her pain brought an ache to his chest, however, and he was unsure over whether to visit her again tonight. What if she did not wish to spend the night with him? He knew that as her husband, he could overrule her, but he couldn't bring himself to force himself upon her. He would never do such a deplorable and immoral act. He could not rid the thought of her touch; the feel of her skin against his, from his mind. His thoughts and desires were driving him to the brink of insanity, yet he sat across from her trying to keep his expression impassive.

Isabella straightened her bonnet, unaware of her husband's improper thoughts, and smoothed out her dress. They had journeyed all day to be here. She glanced away from her husband to gaze outside the window. The approaching structure made her eyes widen in disbelief. An expansive of grey weathered stone met her gaze. She had seen castles before; dozens of them, she had even been born in one, but she had never seen a fortress quiet like Caernarfon Castle. She would admit it to no one, but no country built castles quiet like the English. The structure before her was a wonder to behold. Isabella's attention fell towards the castle borders. The river Seiont; that was currently at high tide and dotted with bobbing fishing boats, surrounded one side of the castle walls. She had never been to the sea before. She had crossed it get to England, twice, but her father had forbid her from actually visiting the shoreline. She stared mesmerised by the waves as they crashed against the shore.

"It's beautiful," she murmured looking out across the river. The fading sun was reflexed in the calm waves, as it dipped below the horizon. She had never seen a prettier sight. Her gaze was transfixed on the beauty before her.

"I do not believe beautiful adequately describes the vision before me," Prince Edward stated and Isabella turned to him, unaware that he spoke of a very different picture, and their eyes met instantly.

"I have never witnessed the sun setting over water, it is marvellous to behold," she told him, still taken aback by the sight of the water. One day she would paint it, she was not the best at painting, but she enjoyed it immensely.

"That it is, but I was not describing the sunset," he replied staring openly at his wife. She blushed delicately, once she realised that his curtain was drawn across his window; he could not see the same sight she saw. He could only see her.

"You flatter me," she muttered embarrassed. She was irritated by her own reaction; she had shared a bed with this man. He was her husband and she cared for him a great deal; she should not be so easily embarrassed when he showed her affection. She was, however, and she ducked her head from his gaze.

"I was merely stating my opinion, my Lady. You need not hide from me," he told her, wishing she would not turn from him. It pained him to see that he had unwillingly caused her distress and embarrassment. It had not been his intention.

She looked up and held her husband's gaze, "I embarrass easily, do not take offence by it, and I should think, Edward, that given that we are married, you should call me Isabella. You may even call me, Bella, if you should wish too, though few do," She replied, and her husband smiled softly at her statement. He had never referred to a woman by her first name, except his sister.

"I would be happy to address you as such," he paused before adding, "Bella."

Isabella could not help, but smile. Her husband was probably the most unusual man she had ever come across. He could say openly and descriptively, just how beautiful she appeared to him, and yet he stuttered out her name like it was a dirty word that should not be uttered.

She giggled, admitting bluntly, "You do amuse me, Edward."

Edward was not sure whether this statement was meant to flatter or offend, but he did not care. He smiled at the comment and agreed. No woman had ever amused him more than his new wife.

Their arrival into the grounds of the castle was a hurried affair. The staff got to work with their luggage and made haste to settle the royal guests into their home. Caernarfon Castle would officially be their place of residence when they were not at court, but Isabella was almost certain that Edward did not intend to stay here permanently. They still had rooms at Buckingham and Kensington Palace, and Isabella was sure that Edward would prefer to remain close to his family in London, rather than a whole day's carriage ride away in Wales. She was looking forward to their time in Wales though, she had never been anywhere other than Paris, Caen and Portsmouth (the two towns where her ship had docked) and London. She was excited for the chance to explore Wales and all it had to offer.

It began to rain profusely just as the couple retired to their rooms. The couple's nightly exchange was very much the same as the previous night, though Isabella happily reported to her husband that the experience had not pained her nearly half as much as before. She lay back against her pillows, thoroughly exhausted, before rolling onto her side and resting her chin upon her husband's chest. He brought her into his arms and held her for a long while. Once he thought she was sleeping, he gently manoeuvred out of her grasp. Isabella's eyes flew open at the movement, and her tired eyes grew sad at the sight of him leaving. He pulled his nightshirt over his head, and saw her staring solemnly in his direction. He hated to see that look in upon her face.

"What saddens you, my beautiful wife?" he asked, knelling beside her bed.

"You are leaving me again," she stated, unsure why it caused her such heartache to see him go, but she had no desire to wake without him again.

"You wish me to stay?" he enquired, shocked at honesty. She nodded timidly and he slipped back into the bed beside her. He was not sure that it was acceptable to stay the whole night beside his wife, but he found that he did not care, all that much, as to whether it was. He was certain that if he did not return tonight, Sir Cheney would know his whereabouts when the morning dawned.

Isabella placed a gentle kiss onto his clothed chest, once he was beside her once again. Edward looked down curiously at his wife, and saw adoration shining in her brown eyes. He did not know how he had been so lucky; to find happiness in his arranged marriage, but apparently he had been. He cared for Bella deeply and he could see that she felt the same. They may not have known each other long, but time was not always a factor in regards to human emotions. He leant down and the kiss they shared was unlike any other. He felt the same noticeable spark between them, but he poured his heart into his kiss, as did she. Despite her tiredness, Isabella felt herself recharged with energy like no other. She pulled herself up to lie above her husband. His eyes flashed with lust at the change in dynamic.

She kissed him fiercely, longing for him encouraging her. Her feelings of desire, previous to this moment, felt unimportant in comparison. She felt him stir to life beneath her, and became wet at the feeling of his need for her. He kissed her hard, and made no attempt to change her position. Seeing her sat astride him caused thoughts and questions to flood his mind. Could they consummate this way? Was it possible to come together in any other way than what he had assumed? He supposed it was plausible; there was no valid reason as to why they couldn't complete the act in this position.

His hands caressed the silky skin of her thighs, venturing beneath her nightgown to touch her intimately. He worried that his touch had caused her pain, when she whimpered audibly, and bit down onto her lip. Her face alighted with pleasure, however, as he stroked the pad of his finger across her. Pleasure shot through her like a bolt of lightning. She had felt nothing in her life that could compare with the feeling. She cried out, and spread her hands across his chest. When she felt the cotton of his night shirt, she grew impatient and began tugging at the offending garment. Edward removed his nightshirt, after her unspoken attempts. It was when she reached for the hem of her own nightgown that he suddenly grew tense with excitement. In a swift motion she drew her nightgown up over her head and flung it out of sight. He gazed longingly at her breasts, having never seen them uncovered before.

He continued to touch her body with gentle explorative strokes and caresses. He genuinely had had no clue, as to how to bring her pleasure until this moment. It seemed remarkably simple now. He reached his unoccupied hand up to cup her breast and was delighted when she leaned into his touch. He timidly brushed his thumb across her nipple, wondering what it would feel like to her. An unknown feeling tightened in her lower body. She did not understand how he was doing it, but every time he touched her skin, the sensation strengthened. His caresses caused her to cry out and clutch at his bare skin. The feeling was leading somewhere, and she had an odd hunch that she would not get there unaided. She felt his hardened length beneath her, and knew what she needed; knew what her body was seeking, more now than ever before.

She reached for him; he groaned and threw his head back against the pillow, when her delicate fingertips met his skin. His grip on her tightened at the feeling of her touch, he understood almost instantly what she intended to accomplish by seeking him out. He assisted her, and found himself fully sheathed inside her within moments. Both of them cried out at the pleasure that took hold of their bodies. Isabella couldn't recalled either time before now feeling this magnificent, but she was immensely pleased to find that her mother-in-law had been right; it wasn't always like that. She rocked her hips, an instinct that came to her from nowhere. She could not understand it; her body knew what it wanted when her mind did not, and it acted of its own accord.

Neither lasted long, and her body shook as pleasure flooded her every cell. She fell unto his chest, and remained there. She fell asleep that night with a contented, pleasure induced, smile upon her face. She had never been more pleased to do her wifely duty.

The morning dawned overcast and threatening showers. He gazed adoringly down at his new wife; her long chestnut hair had worked itself free from her braid and was now delightful messy and tangled. His left hand reached up, curious, and gently ran his fingertips down the length of her hair. He had never seen a sight more beautiful than his young wife. She made the most delightful sound, and rolled herself sleepily into his arms. Her head fell lightly against his chest and he placed his arm protectively over her.

After a moment, she mumbled, "Now I am quite married."

The Prince chuckled, "you did not think yourself to be married after my first visit?"

Isabella raised herself up and looked down at her husband.

"I did," she admitted shyly, "but if you will allow me to make such a comment, I found last night to be rather more enjoyable, and I am content to imagine this be our first morning."

He smiled at his wife, she was happy to forgive him for his hurried attempt at consummating their marriage. He was content also to replace last night in his mind, as their wedding night. He would not forget their first night together, but he would allow her to, if she wished it.

"Good morning, wife," he whispered towards her. She smiled prettily down at her husband, before moving back into his embrace.

"Good morning," she replied happily, sighing in contentment. She had never been so utterly happy and at peace with the world. She gazed up at her husband and thought to herself, how lucky she was to have married him. She may have been given no say on the subject, but she was very glad she had followed her father's instructions. She surely would not have found a better man. She brought herself closer to her husband and sought out his kiss.

Lady Weber headed towards her mistress' bedchamber; it was well past eleven and her mistress had not yet rung for assistance. It was unheard of for the Princess to sleep this late into the morning. She could not understand it, so she had took the matter into her own hands. A figure stood leaning against the hallway wall, but Lady Weber was so determined that she almost strode right past him. She would not have noticed him, had he not spoke up as she past.

"I would not go any further, if I were you, Lady Weber," Sir Cheney warned, "the sight of my master in his birthday suit is enough to scar a person for the remainder of their days."

Lady Weber turned in the man's direction; blushing deeply at his comment. She took a moment to process his words beyond that of his inappropriate remark. She took his words, and his presence, to mean that the Prince was still within her mistress's chamber. Her eyes widened, had they stayed together all through the night until this moment? She knew that normal husbands and wives did not always separate when the deed was done, but she had not expected them to reach that point on only their second night together. She was astonished.

"Do you mean to say that the Prince of Wales has remained here all night?"

Sir Cheney smirked in her direction; he could not believe she had not guessed at this. She was French, there was no way on this earth she was as innocent as her look claimed. She surely knew that this would happen eventually? After only one night with her, the Prince desired his wife beyond any other worldly being; did the Princess Isabella not feel the same? It certainly sounded like she was enjoying herself.

An overly loud cry of pleasure signified they had reached their end, for the second time that morning. Sir Cheney appeared unfazed by the sound, while Lady Weber's eyes widened at the noise that clearly came from her mistress. She had never heard such a shameless cry, and to think that the sound came from the Princess; she could not understand it. Luckily, she was not left to ponder the thought for too much longer. The door opened slowly, a few moments later, and she averted her gaze at the sight of the Prince in his robe. She waited for the men to be gone from her sight, before heading into her mistress' room.

Her mistress was lying beneath her bed covers, staring sleepily up at the canopy above her bed. She was smiling, perhaps the silliest grin that Lady Weber had ever seen. Her bare shoulders peaked out above the covers; meaning she was no longer wearing her nightgown. Lady Weber was somewhat relived to see her.

"Good morning, my Lady," she spoke, her voice almost inaudible. Isabella seemed to hear her regardless of her low tone. She bolted upright, holding the covers over her naked body.

"Good morning, Angela," she replied, beaming, "I have so much to tell you."

Lady Weber looked over at her mistress, and smiled at the happiness she saw there. Isabella clutched the cover tight to her exposed flesh and began to explain the change in her physical relationship to her most trusted companion. Lady Weber was about to be enlightened.

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**Thanks for reading :) **

**Think it best to warn you all now, I'm still working on chapter 7 as I have come to conclusion that I skipped too far ahead in the original chapter, so it will be a week for the next update. The latest ill be for every new chapter is a week, just for the people out there that don't know :) **

**Thanks again :) See you in a week...**


	8. Passing Time

**Hi :) Back again :)**

**Firstly, I am amazed by the amount of reviews, favourite and alerts the last chapter got :D Thank you all so much :D**

**Now, I should say, I'm not happy with this chapter. I found it really hard to write the last part and the M scene, last time it was really easy, but this just wasn't. So this will be the last scene for a while, because I'm just not happy with it.**

**Hopefully, you'll all still enjoy it :)**

Chapter Seven

Passing time…

Raindrops pitter pattered in a steady rhythm against the glass. The sky was darker than it should've been given the hour. The young members of the English court paid no attention towards the dreary weather and were focused solely upon their chosen activities. Lady Stanley was perched on the sofa beside Lady Clearwater; they busied themselves embroidering decorative pieces. Lady Weber had settled herself in the patterned armchair on Lady Clearwater's right. She occupied her time by reading a novel that her mistress had recommended, after their arrival in England. She struggled somewhat at the language. Lady Weber may have been familiar with the language that she now spoke daily, but that did not mean she was as competent at reading English as her mistress. As she struggled through the Bride of Lammermoor, Sir Cheney, who sat in another plush armchair beside the fire, huffed quietly as he scanned the morning paper. The Times reported on the Prime Minister's visit to the House of Lords, and of the new bill he had proposed to his fellow politicians. Sir Cheney did not much like the new Prime Minister. _Pompous man thought himself to be Royal,_ the Prince's valet thought in distaste, _and being elected by the general public was a far cry from being born into the monarchy._The paper rustled as Sir Cheney turned onto the next page and a new article.

Across the room, the young couple sat opposite one another, a chess board filling the space between them. Isabella assessed the board, glaring at her pieces, as if willing them to move of their own accord, and save her the embarrassment of choosing incorrectly. She decided after a moment or too to simply move her pawn. It was only a pawn; it was not going to win her the game, so it did not matter if his knight took it.

"Your move," the Princess instructed her husband of two weeks. She smiled mischievously in his direction. She honestly had neither a clue nor a care as to how to play this game. He had sworn he would assist her, however, when he had suggested they play, and that he would teach her the rules of play. Yet it appeared he had broken his promise, and was using her lack of knowledge to his advantage. _There are other ways to cheat, my dear_, she thought, glancing slyly around the parlour, before making her move. She stretched out her leg delicately, reaching for her husbands, and brushed her slippered foot softly, and what she hoped was seductively, against his thigh.

The move took all her effort to execute perfectly, but she took great joy in watching his reaction to her touch. He stumbled through the move he had planned; his hand slipped and his fingertips grasped his Queen rather than the knight at its side. He gazed yearningly at his wife, in complete ignorance of his mistake. The princess delighted in the fact that her plan had worked perfectly, and pulled herself up straighter to survey the board. She had a pawn already in position and took pride in moving her piece. The mighty king was taken down by a lowly pawn.

"Checkmate," she told her astonished husband. His expression changed from longing to confusion, as he lowered his gaze from his wife and stared down at the board between them.

"You cheated," he stated, certain that his wife had tricked him somehow.

He scanned his wife's almost guilt free expression, and knew she must have done something to aid this outcome. She was not the most skilled liar. He had learned as much during their stay in Wales. He had also learned her most favoured colour to be cobalt blue, and that she preferred chicken rather than pork. Although, he was glad to have gathered as much information as he had, he did not think his wife's preferences in shade or foods were particularly relevant towards the current situation.

She smiled innocently in his direction and he just knew.

"You definitely cheated," he confirmed accessing her false innocence.

"You offend me, sir," she replied, drawing the attention of her ladies maid. Lady Weber glanced towards her mistress after hearing of her offence. She knew with only one look into her mistress's playful expression that the Prince had not truly offended her. Her attention drifted back towards her novel and the romance unfolding with each turn of a new page. Lady Weber allowed the young couple the freedom to squabble amongst themselves.

"I apologise profusely, madam, for causing you offence," the Prince falsely apologised, and Isabella appeared immensely confused by his sudden change in attitude. She remained puzzled and somewhat stunned until he finished his previous sentence.

"Only, I do not condone cheating, and therefore I find I must state that any offence taken was brought on by your own actions," he explained further, to which she took great offence. Playfulness aside, she was irritated beyond explanation. _He did not condone cheating_, she repeated to herself, _what a load of tosh!_

"You do not _condone_ cheating?" she questioned, though not granting time for her husband to reply.

"If you do not condone the dead, _my Lord_, then why commit it yourself?" she demanded, "you knew of my lacking chess skills, vowed to assist me and yet you used my lack of knowledge to your own advantage, do you deny it?"

The Prince held his wife's stare; he was guilty of such, yes, but he would not be the first to admit to his guilt. Isabella was stubborn too, however, and clever; she knew how to make Edward confess first. Feigning tiredness, and putting on an overly dramatic yawn, she rose from her chair. Her three ladies shoot up from their seats as their mistress stopped to face her husband. He appeared baffled at the sudden change, and his eyes slowly wondered after his wife, finding himself staring at her chest. He forced his gaze north in direction and saw the wicked gleam in her eye. He knew instantly as to the outcome of their next conversation. The hold she had over him was as easily fought as an iron barred cell.

"I am going to bed," she announced looking down at her husband, "you may join me as soon as you are prepared to declare your guilt. Goodnight."

Her ladies prepared themselves to depart as the Prince brought himself up out of his seat also. She gazed up into his lust filled eyes and knew she had won their silly fight. He drew himself close to her, and breathed out his confession into her ear, so no one but her would hear him admit himself guilty. He knew her to be equally in need of confession as he, but at the promise of joining her, he was more than willing to forget such a minor detail.

"Guilty as charged," he whispered, his warm breath tickling her neck. A shiver ran through her frame at the sensation. She could not wait to be alone with him. She noticed her ladies standing at the ready and looked to her husband. Not wishing to waste time on the formalities of her usual routine, she dismissed her ladies with one quick gesture. They fell back into their seats, confused by her command, and could not help but think as to how the young Princess would manage alone. Isabella was sure, however, that she could easily attend to herself for one evening; how difficult could it be?

The heavy wooden door slammed shut behind the young couple, as they hid themselves away inside Isabella's chamber once again. This room had been their sanctuary since their second night as husband and wife. They had spent many a lazy morning locked away from the world, and the judging eyes of their fellow nobles. As soon as the door was safely closed and they were truly alone once again, he advanced. She gazed at him in anticipation, excitement for what was to come bubbling up inside her. She knew very well his intentions, for she shared the very same thoughts. He was upon her in moments, his lips capturing hers swiftly and urgently. She groaned in relief and wound her arms around her husband, drawing him closer. His hands caressed down the length of her torso; his fingertips stroked delicately down the ridges of her corset, from her chest to her hips. He kissed her passionately, his hands gripping the grey-blue fabric of her skirt. The urge to rip the offending garment from her person passed through his mind, but he knew his wife had a particular liking for this frock; he could not destroy it without gaining a suitable punishment for the crime. He had no choice; it would have to remain intact.

The smooth skin of her delicate hands caused him to shiver, as they slid along the back of his neck. He knew her intention, she had a fascination with his hair; something he found it hard to comprehend, but enjoyed the attention immensely all the same. The rounded tips of her nails grazed lightly against his scalp, and wound into his hair. He moaned, as she tugged at the thin bronze strands. She pulled herself up closer in order to reach him better, her chest pressed against his and he took pleasure in the feeling. His hands moved up from her hips then, and halted at her shoulders. He held her too him, and his attention on her mouth became even more heated. After a moment, he drew away from her, needing to catch his breath. She used the time wisely; reaching her hands back behind her and attempted to remove her gown. She had never had to do so before and she found herself lost at how to remove it. She knew it laced, she felt her ladies tie them every morning, but she failed to feel the join.

"I cannot undo it," she admitted quietly, her hands falling to her sides, disappointment filling her.

Her husband saw her struggling, and the frustration and sadness on her face. He had not a clue as to how to assist her, but he would do his best to do just that. He took her hand and pulled her closer. He brought his mouth down upon hers again, and they both moaned at the contact. Attempting to be sly and smooth, he reached his hand around to the back of her dress. His fingertips ran the length of the ties; he frowned when he found no obvious way to free her from the garment. His focus was brought away from kissing his wife, and onto undressing her. Isabella felt his hands at her back, and sighed, if she could not succeed at this, what on earth made him believe he could? He was as innocent at undressing women, as she was at undressing herself. She allowed him to continue, however, trying her best to not appear put out at the brief loss of his attention.

His fingers fumbled over the ties of her dress, and after a moment, he became frustrated with the garment and moved away from her. He grasped her hips and turned her on the spot, she huffed indignantly at the action. He needed to see what it was he worked on, however, and apologised for not giving her warning. He knew he should have said something before forcibly turning his wife around. The moment he looked upon the ties, he knew how to remove it. He smiled broadly and got to work on her dress. Isabella sighed, _how romantic, _she thought annoyed. She remained annoyed at her husband, until she felt the strings loosen and her dress slip away from her underclothes. She was relived for a moment, until her husband cursed. She giggled at the sound, after all his effort, there was still one small obstacle to tackle; her corset. He sighed, irritated, and spun her around to face him, capturing her up into his embrace once more. He tried not to dwell on the thought of her underclothes, and instead focused his attention on returning them to the height of their passion. It did not return easily, since the mood had been changed abruptly only moments before, but Isabella relaxed at her husband's touch and found herself damp with want, a fact that hadn't registered until she had been given a second to think on it.

She wanted him, and she was not prepared to wait copious amounts of time for them to reach this stage. She pulled herself free from his embrace and he watched her, puzzled by her actions. She was in great need of her husband's attention, and reached underneath her chemise to remove her bloomers. It would be no different from their first night; he could reach her whether was laid bare to him or not. She saw no need to waste more time over her ridiculous undergarments. His eyes darkened as he witnessed her undressing herself before him. His want for her grew at the sight and he advanced, as soon as her bloomers lay beside her feet on the floor. Moving towards her slowly, he took hold of her and kissed her fiercely. He had never wanted to be inside her as badly as he did this moment. He simply had to have her, there was no alternative. Without a second's hesitation, he moved his wife down onto her across mattress. Her eyes widen as she was lifted off her feet. It was rather unsettling to be vertical one moment and horizontal the next, she laughed openly and covered her face with her hands in an attempt to stifle her amusement. Edward did not see the need for her laughter, but felt himself smiling at the joy he saw upon her face.

Her expression soon changed, as she noticed her husband removing his waistcoat. Her eyes studied him silently, her expression turning hungry, as he stripped down before her. She had seen his bare chest before, many times, but on their nightly exploration into the pleasurable lands of physical love, she had yet to see him completely bare; a fact that had not truly bothered her all that much. Now, however, the sight that greeted her caused her longing to increase to the point of discomfort. She understood now, as she looked upon her husband's naked form, why their first night together had caused her so much pain. He was not small. She had felt as much each time they had joined, but it was truly enlightening to see it in the flesh.

He enjoyed her curious stare very much, and found himself spurred into action by the heat in her gaze. She yelped in surprise, as he, still standing, moved to grasp her hips; positioning himself at her entrance. She did not think on the strangeness of him standing between her hips, rather than laying above her; if truth be told, she did not care in the slightest how he attended to her needs, as long as he. She did not have to wait long she her wish; he entered her and she threw her head back in pleasure. Every trace of laughter was gone from her; this was certainly no laughing matter. He groaned upon entry and delighted in the feeling of being inside his wife. No other feeling compared to this. He allowed his wife a moment, even though it had been days since the act had caused discomfort, he was still cautious. He moved slowly at first, only picking up his pace with her encouraging looks and movements.

He gazed down at her, enjoying the new perspective that the position he held granted. He studied her face, learning how to please her by watching how her expression changed with every movement. She enjoyed certain things more than others, and it was interesting to see what. He felt his muscles tightening and his movements became rapid. He hated that he never lasted long; he seemed unable to last more than a few minutes. He hoped this was something that would improve over time, however, with a little encouragement, Isabella wouldn't take long either. He should have readied her this way before entering her, he knew that, but he had been unable to restrain himself at the sight of her undressing. He reached down to where they joined, and stroked the pad of his thumb across her.

Her back arched and her hands clawed into the mattress, as pleasure shot through her at his touch. He brought her to the edge with his gentle, but amazingly accurate touch. She felt it building, she had come to recognise this feeling; it usually signified the height of pleasure at be imminent. His movements became rapid and she knew he was close also. The end was in sight. At almost the same moment, they cried out, as they lost themselves to their individual waves of passion. Panting, he collapsed inelegantly unto her. She unconsciously huffed at the weight of his body. After a moment, he pulled himself free from her, and relieved his wife from the weight of his body. She glanced over at him, a ridiculous grin upon her face. He met her gaze, his eyes suddenly sleepy from exertion. She realised then, as she regained some semblance of ration thought.

"Am I correct in thinking," she started, turning onto her side and gazing at her drowsy husband, "that that was the first time, we have ever _finished _at the exact same time?"

Edward's eye turned thoughtful, and after a moment, he nodded. It was indeed, she smiled brilliantly down at him and he could not help, but return the gesture. He yawned audibly and Isabella appeared offended by his tiredness. His heavy eyelids began to slowly close and his mind slipped into slumber. Isabella was not ready to end their evening activities, and she told her husband as much.

"Don't you dare fall asleep," she commanded; her voice drifting seductively through his sleep clouded mind, "I am not finished with you yet."

His mouth lifted at the corner, and he smirked drowsily up at his young wife.

"Is that a promise?" he asked, his eyes slowly opening to peer up at her. She stared longingly down at him and shook her head. She leant down and pressed her lips against his, she murmured, "It's a guarantee."

**No matter how many times I read through this, I'm still disappointed with this chapter :/**

**Hopefully you liked it, and don't worry chapter eight will be up shortly :) I'm a lot happier with chapter 8 :)**

**Thanks for reading :)**


	9. Home

**Hello again, **

**Thank you all so much for the continued support and amazing response to the last chapter :) I was terribly worried about it, and now I can't think why lol Anyway, thanks so much :)**

**I'm going to keep it short this week, so here's chapter 8...**

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Chapter Eight

Home…

The torrents of rain, which currently lashed against the castle windows, had continued to confine to their chambers. Past times became hard to come by, though until today neither had complained too much towards this situation. It was only towards the end of their third week that Isabella could stand imprisonment no longer. She had spent most of her childhood locked away from the world, her marriage was supposed to be her freedom. She was also tiring of never-ending rain. Isabella had never seen weather quite like it. They had had storms in France of course, she had witnessed many in her life time, but storms pass and this unending downpour had not ceased for the entirety of their stay. She continued to stare out of the window; the water sliding down the glass pane holding her attention for longer than it probably should have.

Edward sat across from her, occupied by his newspaper. The Times had an article about his father's visit to Parliament; it held his interest better than she could today. She sighed, and finally turned away from the window. Edward looked up from his paper, folding it and placing it on the side table.

"What is troubling you, my Lady?"

He appeared a little irritated at having to cease reading, but did not refuse her his attention. She noticed his irritation, but she simply made no comment towards it.

"When do we return to London?" she questioned, hoping they could return sooner rather than later. She had truly seen enough rain these two weeks to last her lifetime. At least the sun made appearances in London; here it was nothing but grey clouds and icy sheets of water.

"Why? Do you tire of my company already?" he replied, a slight smirk changing his features into an expression that caused desire to stir once again. She tried to ignore the feeling and rose from her perch. Isabella settled herself in his lap; much to his surprise, but he placed an arm around her, all the same.

"I will never tire of your company," she whispered truthfully before capturing his lips in a brief kiss.

She pulled back from him, "It is not you that I tire of; it is this weather."

Edward openly laughed at her statement, much to her displeasure. She did not look pleased when he ceased. Her look alone caused his reply.

"You are not in France anymore, Bella. You best get used to the rain," he told her simply. Her face fell, and she muttered solemnly.

"I am very aware that I am no longer in France, but thank you for bringing it to my attention."

Edward felt guilt settle in his stomach; he should not have mentioned her home. By marriage; England was her home, but that did not make her feel it. Her ties were to France, and it would take her a long while for that to change. He pulled her against his chest then; her head resting lightly against his collarbone.

"I did not mean to cause you heartache, my dear Bella," he told her, using her name over her titles; she preferred that, "I meant it only in jest, please do not be sad."

Isabella did not reply. She simply savoured the feeling of her husband's arms around her; enjoying being held in an embrace that was not at all sexual, just comforting. She enjoyed her husband's company immensely in regards to their bedroom activities, but it felt nice to simply be held. After a moment or two, she realised she had been given her answer.

"When do we go to London?" she repeated, "You never did say."

The Prince looked relived, and granted her an answer.

"Whenever you wish it," he told her, he was happy to do as she bid him, "We can leave tomorrow, if it would make you happy."

Isabella smiled; he would do anything to please her that much she had learnt over the last three weeks. She remembered a time in her childhood, when her father had remarked that her mother had held him wrapped around her little finger, only days after they had met. She could see now what he had meant by that statement. Her husband would do almost anything she requested; a fact that amused her greatly.

"Are you really agreeable with leaving tomorrow?" she clarified, to which he nodded. He knew she was disappointed with how their honeymoon had turned out. She felt caged in the castle and longed for freedom. They may have been offered privacy here, for which they were both grateful, but if she had to spend another day trapped within these walls, she would likely go insane.

"I am agreeable, but unfortunately we cannot just leave, my father is not expecting us," he told her sadly, knowing he would disappoint her. He eased her gently off his lap. He rose up and allowed her to take his seat.

"I will make arrangements to leave within two days, does this suit?"

She nodded; she was satisfied with his request. She had known they simply could not just leave without a moment's notice. He placed a kiss unto her forehead, his lips feather light against her skin. Her eyes closed at the feel of his touch. She smiled at the feelings his touch never ceased to rouse within her. He left a moment later to make arrangements for their imminent departure, and once he was gone she smiled to herself, glad that they had found some happiness so early into their marriage. She could not have asked for a man so perfect to spend her life with. She truly was the most happy.

Everything was set and ready. It was time to depart. The Prince headed to the carriage he would share with his wife. Isabella had left the castle ahead of him, with her ladies and Dash. He had been delayed by making arrangements with the household. He approached the carriages and noticed immediately that Lady Weber and Clearwater were down by the riverbank. His attention turned to them, and he changed course. They did not notice him, as he advanced; their attention was fixed on his young wife. She stood by the shoreline, staring out at the river in wonder. He stopped for a moment to take in the sight of her, her face as peaceful as it always was in sleep. He could not take his eyes off her.

The gentle waves crashed against the river bank. A soft breeze, which carried the scent of the ocean, washed over her face. She delighted in the feeling of it tickling her skin. Her eyes closed and she sighed with contentment. She was so very glad that the sun had broken free of its prison and granted her this moment. The carriage was loaded, the staff had taken their seats, but she could not bear to leave without having a moment to enjoy the sea. She closed her eyes and allowed the scent and breeze of the ocean to fill her. She knew he was behind her before he even spoke. She had grown so used to his presence over the fortnight they had spent as husband and wife; she could feel him behind her.

"Just a moment longer," she pleaded not taking her eyes away from the sight before her. He came up and stood beside her.

"If watching the water brings you pleasure, I shall not tear you from it," he told her, gazing out at the sight that fascinated her.

He had seen the River Seiont many times in his childhood; it was nothing new to him. He did not understand the look in her eyes, a look that held such wonder at the beauty of the water. The Prince wished to ask her the reason as to why she looked at the river with such an expression, but she spoke before he had formed the question.

"I have never been this close to the sea before," she recalled, "It is truly a marvellous sight."

The Prince could not understand it; she had never been to the shore before? What kind of upbringing had she endured?

"Never?" he questioned, almost horrified at the thought of never being granted this experience as a child. She shook her head; her expression sad and reminiscent.

"Father kept me confined to the Palace. I was allowed in the gardens with an escort, and into town if he accompanied me," she stated, her gaze still transfixed by the river. He could not even picture a life like that.

"Did he ever say why?" he asked quietly, hoping that it was not because of the betrothal contract, which he suspected. Her father had taken the point of keeping his daughter pure, by shutting her away from any male that may chance a glance at her. He worried that she had been locked away to insure her virtue.

"He did, but I never truly understood his meaning," she replied, turning to face him at last, "he said that not all of France wished me well."

Prince Edward's face paled at the statement. She may not have understood the meaning behind her father's words, but he did. France was not as stable as King Charles wanted his fellow nobles to believe. The Prince now found himself wishing the betrothal contact had been the reason behind her confinement. The Prince kept his thoughts to himself though; he did not want to frighten her. If anything drastic were to happen, she would hear of it.

"I am sure that is not true," he lied, hoping she would not know him well enough yet to see through his words. She turned away from him again, and fell silent for a moment.

"I had a painting of a shoreline in my sitting room," she continued, eyes transfixed on an unknown point ahead of her, "I always tried to imagine what it would look like up close. I have been waiting to come down here since we arrived, though I am sorry for delaying our departure."

The prince smiled, "Do not worry over it; we can spend all day here, if you wish it," he told her, meaning every word; he would gladly travel through the night if it meant that she could get her fill of the river Seiont. He tried to imagine how the river would appear if he had never before laid eyes on it. He had first visited the shore when he was only very young, a time before his sister's birth, and he found it difficult to imagine how it must look through her eyes. A thought struck him, then.

"One day soon," he vowed, "I will take you to the sea. This is just a river; the true ocean is much more marvellous."

Her face studied him, alight with a mixture of disbelief and hope. She truly did not know what she had done to deserve such a husband. She would never be thankful enough to God for granting her such a wonderful companion. He was the sweetest man she had ever met, though she would never admit that to him through fear of offending him. The depth of her affection for him grew with each passing hour. His desire to please her above all others, only strengthened her feeling. No man would ever compare to him. He saw the hope and admiration in her eyes, and was encouraged by it.

"We could perhaps take a picnic and make a day of it?"

The idea of a day at the beach planted firmly in his mind now. He wanted to give her the experiences she had missed out on as a child. He hoped one day she would tell him more, but he was content not to push the subject further this morning.

She reached for him then, her tiny hand clasping his and gently tugging him closer. He allowed her to pull him in, but remained very aware that they were within the public eye. He had no desire to make the front page of a tabloid. The words she uttered next took him completely off guard; of all the things to say, he had not been expecting her to reply with such a statement.

"You are the most wonderful man," she muttered softly, "how did I ever become so lucky?"

Her words summed up his feelings almost perfectly. Although he disagreed with her on the first part, he wholeheartedly agreed and understood her feelings in regards to luck. He felt honoured to have been chosen to marry her, and he sought to treat her as his most prized possession. He would treasure her always, for as long as he lived. He still did not know her well, but he did not have to know her inside and out to know that he was a very lucky man indeed, to have found a woman that he fit with so perfectly.

Suddenly, he cared not for the common people's opinions of him. He just needed to feel her against him, and he did not think on it a moment. In a swift motion, he gathered her up into his arms, kissing her fiercely. They shared a moment that neither would forget in a hurry, before pulling themselves away from one another. After their brief kiss, the Prince gazed out across the river once more. Isabella did not join him this time; she stared at her husband in astonishment. They had shared passion before, but the show of such affection in public made her face heat with embarrassment. She did not regret the experience, however, and she reached out to grasp his hand once again. He wrapped his fingers around her hand, and pulled her into his side. Their last moment in Wales was spent together, staring out across the water, thanking their lucky stars for the betrothal contract that had led them to each other.

_The Morning Chronicle_

_LONDON, FRIDAY, APRIL 29th 1833_

_Royal Newlyweds Enjoy a Moment in Wales_

_In the early morning of April 28th, the young couple were spotted by their Welsh residence; Caernarfon Castle. They stood on the shore line, hands clasped together, while they shared words. His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, sneaked a moment with his young bride on the bank of river Seiont. Never before has the Prince of Wales behaved so out of his usual character. It was a rare sight to be seen. Her Royal Highness the Princess of Wales, I am told, appeared as surprised by his affection as the rest of the nobles present that morning._

_The Prince of Wales is not known to behave in such a manor. A fact his acquaintances and bride seem to be in agreement about. The Princess of Wales may have appeared shocked at the affection shown in such a public setting, but she nevertheless looked most pleased at her husband's actions. This display shows a change in his Royal Highness that we, as a nation, hope to mean he has found happiness with his bride. A fact that we can all be glad about, his happiness is an encouraging and inspiring thought for our great nation. The Prince of Wales marital bliss can only mean good for our country and for our people, and we, at The Morning Chronicle, congratulate him and his bride, and we wish the young couple every happiness together._

His Majesty the King did not finish the article; he folded the tabloid and placed it onto his desk. The article should have angered him given the fact that his son had almost caused scandal, but it did not. He found himself glad at the changes the paper had reported about his eldest son. He was as glad as the writers of The Morning Chronicle to hear that his son had acted out of character. His Majesty had known that the Princess would be good for his son, but he had never dreamed that he would see a change in him so soon.

The door to his study flew open and his wife hurried into the room. Her face was alight with surprise, and confusion. Any other person would have been reprimanded for making such an entrance, but Esme, she could never offend him with her presence. He found himself smiling at the sight of her; she was flustered and out of sorts.

"What brings you here, my dear?" he enquired, as she approached his desk. She took a breath before speaking, and gathered herself together.

"One of the guards at the gate saw a carriage approaching," she told him, after regaining her breath, "it is Edward, he and Isabella have returned early."

His Majesty looked alarmed, "they are not due here for another week."

He clambered up out of the wing-backed chair, and headed towards his wife. All the while forming plans in his mind, his son could not arrive without the proper greeting.

"Assemble the staff, we will go out to greet them as originally planned," he instructed his wife, to which she nodded and hastened away from his study. His Majesty was not best pleased with his son now. They had planned an elaborate ball to celebrate their return to court, all of which would have to be cancelled now, unless they could find another reason to hold it, before it became too late to cancel.

The plan they had devised had been spurred into action, and when the carriage pulled up into the courtyard, the staff and nobles in attendance were awaiting the newly wedded couple. The Prince of Wales disembarked from the carriage swiftly, before offering Isabella his assistance. His Majesty was glad to see him behave as the gentleman he had raised him to be. Once she was beside him, they stood side by side in front of their carriage and waited to be addressed by His Majesty. He strode forward after a moment or two and greeted his son and daughter-in-law with fondness. He may not have been pleased to see them returned to court so soon, but he was glad to see them nonetheless.

"Forgive me for not preparing for your arrival; we were not expecting you so soon," His Majesty told him smiling brilliantly. He was not pleased; his son knew this straight away. He did not care much, however, he would rather his father unhappy than his bride.

"We came upon the decision to leave early," Prince Edward explained to his father, leaving out the details. He did not wish for his father to know that Isabella had been the one to suggest leaving. He did not want his father to have any reason to be displeased with her.

"You should have sent word ahead, my son," his father scolded lightly, and the Prince knew before his father spoke that they would be having words later, "I will see you in my study after luncheon."

"The fault is mine, Your Majesty, the weather was not to my liking," the Princess told her father-in-law, and as soon as the words had left her, she regretted speaking. She hoped that neither her husband nor his father-in-law would take offence to her words. She had seen women at court in France, who had spoken without permission, thus earning themselves a mark or bruise; a sign that their husband had put them in their place. She did not think that her husband was capable of such violence, but then, she did not know him all that well. The husbands of the women at court had seemed like reasonable gentlemen, but no gentlemen, by her definition, left a mark on his lady.

Luckily, His Majesty was not offended; he smiled pleasantly down at the young woman.

"You are unaccustomed to our English weather, it is understandable, my Lady," he replied, before summoning the gathered men and women back into the palace.

"After luncheon," he repeated quietly to his son, the pleasantness fading from his expression. Isabella's heart sank, she had not helped him in this situation; she had made matters worse for him. He glanced reassuringly towards her, his small smile comforted her. His simple smile, as he offered her his arm, told her that he was the gentleman that she believed him to be. Like his father, he was not offended by her words or that she spoken up without his permission. He had no intention of chastising her or putting her in her place. She slipped her arm through his and allowed him to lead her into the palace; relived and reassured as to her husband's character. She was very glad to be back at Buckingham, and she hoped against all hope that she never saw rain again.

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**Sorry for putting an end to their honeymoon, but they'd been happy too long :P **

**Thanks for reading :) **


	10. Introductions

**Hello again :) **

**Thank you all so much for all your support so far :) This story is doing so much better than I thought it would, so thank you all again :)**

**Anyway, this chapter is the ball that was mentioned in the previous chapter :) Also in this chapter the question I asked at the end of chapter two will be answered. Hope you all enjoy it :) **

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Chapter Nine

Introductions…

_May 1833 _

Music drifted towards her from the ballroom, as she descended the staircase. He awaited her arrival nervously. They had not seen it each other since luncheon, and he was anxious to lay eyes on her again. Her gown shimmered as she moved, the gold silk catching the soft lighting as she approached him. His breath caught in his throat; he had never seen her dressed in anything so grand. In his navy, silver embroidered jacket, he felt underdressed. He fiddled unconsciously with his jacket sleeve, staring openly at his wife. She blushed at the look in his eyes and dipped her head; embarrassed by the admiration and longing she saw there.

"My Lady," he addressed her, once they stood before each other. She drew her gaze away from the floor, and held his stare. He smiled desirously down at her, before glancing around cautiously. She realised his intentions only moments before his arms encased her and his mouth captured hers. Her eyes closed of their own accord, and her arms snaked around his neck; closing the gap between herself and her husband. The fire raged within her at his touch; she was in great want of his attention after only a few moments. A voice, not far enough away, extinguished the fire, as it uttered a horrified exclamation.

"Mary, cover your eyes!" a voice, she recognised as the awful duchess from her welcoming dinner, exclaimed at the sight of the passionate young couple. Edward promptly released his wife, as her cheeks turned a frightful shade of scarlet. He knew he should feel some sense of shame for showing his wife affection, but he could not bring himself too.

"Mama!" The younger lady replied, batting her mother's fan away from her face, "I know what kissing looks like, it does not offend me."

Isabella felt her eyes widen at the young girls admission. Surely, she knew better than to admit such to her own mother? _Clearly not_, Isabella thought, just as the young girl's mother scolded her; wrapping her, now folded fan, around her daughter's head. The Prince chose that moment to descend the staircase, his intention to apologise and prevent further damage, being his incentive to confront the awful duchess and her young daughter. The duchess' eyes widened, the moment she realised who was approaching her and her daughter. She sank into a curtsey and her daughter quickly followed suit. They rose at the Prince's request, as Isabella timidly climbed the last few stairs, coming to a halt beside her husband. He sensed her approached, but did not question it. He had to say something to prevent scandal, and he had to do it well.

"My Lady, I must apologise for forcing such an inappropriate display upon her delicate disposition. I hope you will accept my heartfelt apology, and that you will agree to keep this unfortunate moment between us?"

The Duchess of Cornwall studied the young Prince with interest, if she did not agreed to keep this scandalous incident to herself, then she would be privy to some particularly interesting gossip. However, she could not refuse his request; he was the future King and she would do well to keep in his good graces.

"Of course, your Highness," the Duchess told him, for once, meaning her words, "I shant say a word."

The Prince looked relived and replied, "both myself and my wife are eternally grateful, my Lady."

The Duchess beamed with pride, curtsied and bid the young couple good day. She would keep her word; causing scandal was not in her best interest where the royal newlyweds were concerned.

Isabella left relief spread through her, as the awful duchess headed away from them. Isabella felt the corners of her mouth lift at the gesture. Lady Mary appeared appalled to have been seen with her mother, and apologised for her mother's actions; mouthing 'sorry' as she passed by the couple and followed her mother into the ballroom. It appeared Isabella was not the only person at court to find the Duchess of Cornwall to be quiet awful indeed, her own daughter confirmed that much. She refrained from releasing the giggle that bubbled up in her throat, until the women were out of sight.

"Bella," her husband spoke to her quietly, "we were very nearly involved in scandal, I do not quiet think that this situation warrants laughter."

"Edward, we are married," she stated, "Forgive me, but I find the fact that a simple kiss is deemed scandalous, when we have shared a marriage bed for a month now."

She was well aware that public displays of affection were not well received, but they were married and she did not see the harm in kissing her husband. Edward was at a loss for words. He saw and understood his wife's point of view on the subject, but knew that the world around them would not be as accepting of it. He shared his views on her opinion.

"Your opinion is more than valid, and I understand you, my lady, but the world does not wish to see it," he told her, feeling saddened at the thought. The one time he had attempted to kiss his wife outside their bedchamber, since returning to Buckingham, had resulted in near scandal. "I am sorry for placing you in that embarrassing position."

"Do not be sorry, Edward, I rather enjoyed your attentions" she dropped her voice to a whisper, "and I am eagerly awaiting your visit tonight," she replied, smiling mischievously up at her husband, "Shall we proceed?"

It took the Prince a moment to clear his mind of thoughts of her. Her words were simply unfair. She had placed him in a delicate and most embarrassing position. He calmed himself down, _almost_, and silently offered his wife his arm. She slid her arm through his, resting her gloved hand in the crook of his elbow, and allowed him to lead her from the hall towards the ballroom.

"Their Royal Highness' the Prince and Princess of Wales," came the announcement, Isabella straightened her back and held her head high. Her expression portrayed a composed demeanour, there was no sign that anything untoward had occurred prior to their arrival. Her husband assumed his usual mask also; his face transforming into an expression of serene indifference. She understood now, that his coldness towards her during their first meeting had not been specifically aimed at her. She had noticed this fact, upon their return to Buckingham Palace.

During their first appearance at court, since their honeymoon, he had assumed an air of coldness. He had then treated each noble that approached them, with the same attitude that he had directed towards her on her first day within the English court. She understood her husband better thereafter, as it was yet another trait they shared; changing her behaviour while in the presence of the court was something that Isabella had been practicing since infancy. Her father had thought it necessary for his daughter to be well trained in hiding her emotions from the watchful eyes of the court and the commonwealth. He had always referred it as her poker face, not that she ever gambled. She was very glad indeed to realise that the coldness, Edward had first shown her was nothing more than a facade.

She clutched his arm tight, and allowed him to steer her towards were his parents sat. He lowered her into a seat beside his mother, and took up a protective position behind her chair. She wondered at his behaviour, until she realised that they were the last guests to arrive, and that His Majesty had been waiting on them in order to start the celebrations. Edward had hastened towards their seats, so that his father could finally arise and speak. His Majesty did not look altogether put out by their late arrival; he only seemed irritated that he now had to rise from his seat. He placed his flute of champagne down onto the table beside him, and stood. Every sound within the room ceased, and any seated nobles rose with their King.

"Greetings, my friends and trusted members of my court, I welcome you all here tonight, to formally celebrate the marriage of my eldest son."

A short round of applause followed His Majesty's statement. He waited for silence before continuing.

"We are all aware that their marriage took place a month ago this day, however, I did not feel a wedding breakfast sufficed where celebrations are concerned."

A murmur of agreement sounded throughout the room, which caused His Majesty to smile politely.

"This being the reason I have gathered you all here tonight. So my friends, and members of my court; enjoy yourselves, and help us to celebrate my son's union in an honourable fashion."

His Majesty fell into his seat after a short round of applause, and downed his drink in one. The music started up once more and the crowd parted expectantly. The Prince knew exactly as to what they were expecting. He offered his wife his arm, which she readily accepted, and led her out onto the floor. With her in his grasp, he fixed his gaze on hers, and the surrounding nobles were lost from his sight. He had no care for their watchful eyes. His only care was his wife. Isabella could not help, but blush softly, and smile up at her husband. His gaze was so intense; it caused her stomach to flutter in want, but she would have to wait until later in the eve before acting upon her feelings.

Couples began to fill the dance floor, and he knew it was time to ask now. He pondered the idea, until he realised, he could not ask her; they had not been introduced. The young Prince Jasper contented himself instead by gazing at the Lady Mary-Alice of Cornwall from across the room. Her raven hair was styled perfectly in tightly packed ringlets, and she wore a band of fresh white flowers in her hair. Her dress complimented her perfectly, the pale blue silk matching the shade of her eyes. He had never seen a sight more beautiful than Lady Mary-Alice, and he hadn't even spoken a word to her. He only knew her name, and he had only just this night received that information, after she had been announced moments before his brother and his wife. He wanted to go to her, and beg her mother for a dance with her daughter. His attention was captivated by the mere sight of her. He stared unashamedly across the ballroom.

She stood awkwardly beside her mother, gazing around the ballroom with interest. Her eyes found his, and she smiled shyly at the attention he paid her. He quickly averted her gaze, only to find the temptation to have her within his sight too strong to resist for long. He looked up only to find that she was no longer in sight. The dispersing couple's caused a blockade between him and Lady Mary-Alice, and he found himself fretting at the loss of visual. His brother passed by then, as he escorted his wife from the dance floor.

"Edward," he hissed in his panic. His brother halted in his tracks at the sound of his forename. He turned irritated at first, until he realised who spoke to him and his expression changed, from irritation to interest.

"Jasper?" he questioned quietly, hoping his young brother would elaborate. Isabella gazed up at her husband and watched as he conversed with his brother. She had only met Prince Jasper briefly, and only in formal settings.

"The girl over there," he muttered, almost flushing red with embarrassment, and his older brother turned on reflex, "Do not look at her!"

"How am I to know which girl you speak of, if I do not look to her?" his brother asked, not understanding why his brother was behaving this way; it was most improper. Isabella glanced slyly over her shoulder, in the direction her brother in law had motioned towards, as the young men bickered.

"Lady Mary?" Isabella questioned, once she spotted her.

Her husband glanced down at his wife, amazed that she had discovered whom his brother spoke of without his noticing. Prince Jasper looked towards his sister by marriage also, and after a moment, nodded.

The Prince of Wales looked towards where Lady Mary's stood, she looked around expectantly, and he could only assume that she was awaiting a suitor with which to take to the floor. At first, he did not understand why his brother simply did not ask the girl for a dance, until it suddenly made sense; he needed an introduction before he could proceed. His brother could offer him the assistance he required. True, the Prince knew the Duke of Cornwall, but never once had the Prince of Wales spoken to the Duchess or either of her daughters.

"I am not of her mother's acquaintance, Jasper; I cannot introduce you to her," he told his brother, watching his face fall with disappointment. It would be impolite of him to ask for her hand regardless of introduction. He would have to remain here, silent and watchful, and simply hope that no other gentleman would take her hand.

"Then I shall make her acquaintance," the accented voice of his sister-in-law spoke up then. She was the only person privy to Prince Jasper's feelings that could make the introduction. It would not be seen improper if she were to approach Lady Mary, especially after all she had witnessed earlier. Isabella slipped her arm free of her husband and crossed the room in seven purposeful strides. The young men watched in disbelief and wonder from across the room.

"Lady Mary?" said a voice by her ear. She turned sharply; her eyes widened and she sank into a curtsey.

"My Lady," she replied, only rising at her superior's request, "how may I be of assistance to you?"

Isabella gigged, "I did not come here to request your assistance. In truth, I feel I must apologise for what you saw earlier this eve."

Lady Mary-Alice quickly responded, "Apologises are unnecessary, my Lady. You were showing affection to her husband. I fail to see a problem with the situation that my mother claims caused her _much distress_."

The Princess of Wales smiled, she herself agreed with Lady Mary on the subject.

"I quiet agree, but as my husband's says, the world does not wish to see it," Isabella told her new companion, sighing with annoyance. She truly did not see the harm, God had blessed their union, and yet people still looked upon their affection for one another with distaste. It irritated her beyond imaginable belief. Her husband caught her gaze from across the hall. Her mouth lifted into a smile at the sight of him.

The Prince of Wales took his wife smile as a signal, and made his over to her. His brother followed nervously behind. Isabella turned her attention towards Lady Mary-Alice and waited for her husband's imminent arrival. She felt his presence before he spoke, a delightful tingle running up her spine at his closeness. His hand brushed against her dress, and she shivered at the feelings that stirred to life in her stomach.

"Lady Mary, may I introduce my husband Prince Edward of Wales, and his brother Prince Jasper, the Duke of York," Isabella introduced upon her husband's arrival. Lady Mary-Alice curtsied politely, before her eyes fell curiously on Prince Jasper. She had seen him from across the ballroom; he had been studying her most intently during the first dance, and she was rather intrigued by the young Prince. The Princess of Wales tried not to smile at the sight of Lady Mary's interest, but her mouth betrayed her.

"Shall we dance?" Isabella asked her husband suddenly, and he glanced down at her, slightly confused by her request. He would happily oblige her in a dance, however, and offered her his hand.

"Of course, my Lady," he replied, before leading her out onto the floor. Their hands slotted together and they mimicked the other couples beside them. He studied his wife's face, as he slipped his hand onto her waist. He may not have known his wife well, in regards to her nature, but he knew that something was not quite right with her sudden request.

"What are you thinking?" he whispered softly towards her, noticing her sly glance in his brother's and Lady Mary's direction. They stood awkwardly, chatting lightly with one another. He silently urged his brother to ask her, and ask her soon.

"That your brother is a fool," Isabella stated, shaking her head in disapproval, "we have given him the opportunity to request a dance, and he has not taken it."

The Prince of Wales smiled at his wife; so this was why she had hurriedly ushered him onto the floor. She had intended to allow his brother a moment alone with his interest. A moment his brother had not taken full advantage off. The Prince sighed, he could not help but agree with his wife; his brother was indeed a fool. Lady Mary was a pretty young girl, albeit not as stunning as the divine woman in his arms, if his brother did not act quickly another gentleman would request her hand soon enough.

"That he is," he replied, "though I must admit, if I were in a similar situation, I am sure that I would be as mute as he."

Isabella giggled; she knew that to be truth. Her husband was awkward and unsure around every woman bar herself, and she was sure that he only held confidence in her presence, due to the depth of the physical relationship. It was not a difficult feat to ask one's wife to dance.

"True enough," she agreed, "though I will make comment, you are more capable in that regard than you let yourself think. Not that I have any such wish to see you acquainted with any other women, but your mother, your sister and myself."

The Prince of Wales laughed openly, causing dancing couples to stare in his direction. He did not care for their opinions of him, however, and he ignored the disapproving and curious looks they threw his way.

"You speak as if I have any such intention," he told her honesty, and delighted in the sight of cheeks reddening at his admission.

"I should hope not," Isabella replied confidently, though he could see the slight insecurity behind her eyes. She truly worried after his fidelity. He sighed, unhappily.

"Bella, I struggle, even after a month of marriage, to show you how I truly feel for you," he stated boldly, "do you really think that I will ever hold the emotional capacity to take on a mistress?"

He had intended to make her laugh, but she did not. At first, she appeared offended by his words, before a look of determination changed her stare. She stared up into his eyes, holding his gaze as she spoke.

"You do not understand yourself well, Edward," she told him, "you may not show your emotions readily, but you are more than capable of great emotion. Do not ever doubt that."

Her words silenced him, and they did not discuss the topic further. He was taken aback by her observation, and he was flattered by his wife's words; she had stunned him to silence.

Prince Jasper took a deep breath and prepared himself, he knew that she could not reject him without due cause, but that did not make the task any less frightening. Lady Mary-Alice looked expectantly towards the young royal, hoping he would ask what she had waited on all evening. Prince Jasper stood before her, he was at least two heads taller than her, and towered above her. Yet, he stuttered out his question as if he were not nearly 6 ft. tall and the second son of the King. When he stood before her, she saw him as the nervous young man that he was, no titles, no superiority; just a normal man. She had never seen through another noble's pretences before, but when she looked at Prince Jasper, she saw him like no other could. She was baffled by the depth of emotion she felt for the young prince; they had barely conversed, much less anything else.

After a moment of hesitation and struggling on his part, she took pity on him.

"Would you like to dance?" she requested, hoping he would be offended. Relief filled his expression, and his mouth formed a brilliant smile.

"I would very much like that," he replied, smiling broadly at her. He had never failed at anything before. He hated that this experience had weakened him; however, he was pleased that she had thought to offer him assistance. Never had a sentence been so difficult to utter. After a moment he offered Lady Mary-Alice his arm, which she took readily and escorted her onto the floor.

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**So thats chapter nine done :) hope you liked it :) **

**Feel like I have to warn you all now, this week has been hectic at work (and its not even over yet!) as its SATS week, and I haven't had much time to write, so I'm a bit behind :/ Sorry about that :( I'm hoping I'll catch up over the weekend though :) A girl can dream :D lol Just don't panic if chapter ten isnt up on time, as I've yet to finish it.  
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**Thank for reading and I'll hopefully see you in a week :) **


	11. The Company of Canines

**I'm back way earlier than I thought I would be, which is always a good thing :) **

**Anyway, I'm gonna keep it short this time, since you all know how much I appreciate you all already :) **

**Here's Chapter Ten **

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Chapter Ten

The Company of Canines

_May 1833_

An uncomfortable tug at her stomach forced her from her husband's side, and out of the comfort and warmth of her bed. The Prince noticed his wife's absence almost immediately upon waking. He had awoken at the sound of Dash's insistent barking. The dog was adamant that he should rise.

"Quiet, Dash!" he mumbled in irritation, he was truly exhausted since they had not turned in until past twelve the previous night. The dancing and mindless chit chat had continued long into the night, and they had been the last to retire at his father's insistence. The Prince groaned at the rude awakening, and rolled over onto his side, reaching out for his wife.

His hand fell onto the empty space that she usually occupied. His eyes opened slowly, his vision was clouded by the haze of slumber, as he scanned the room for her. She was nowhere to be seen. Worried, he pulled himself up and out of bed, grabbing his discarded robe as he went.

"Bella?" he called, hoping she would reply. She did not. He began searching for her then, when her little dog appeared at his ankle. He looked quizzically down at the dog, and felt rather ridiculous as directed his next question towards the pup.

"Where is she, Dash?"

The dog barked in reply, and scurried off in the direction of his wife's washroom. The Prince felt his eyes widen at the dogs intelligence, and hurried after it, hoping the young spaniel would lead him to his wife.

The stench of vomit was thick in the air, as he entered her washroom. He found her in there; sickly pale and almost sleeping beside the basin. Dash lay down beside her, cuddling into his owner's side. Worry built up in Edward's stomach at the sight of her, she appeared most unwell and he was at a loss for how to assist her.

"Bella?" he whispered towards her, hoping she would reply.

She whimpered and blinked open her eyes. Her eyes widened at the sight of her husband, and she became instantly ashamed that he had seen her in such a state. She hurriedly attempted to pull herself up to a more dignified position, only for her stomach to become unsteady at the sudden movement. Dash stayed by her side, unlike Edward, who leapt back in panic, as his wife lurched towards the basin, promptly emptying her stomach once more. He felt the urge to vomit himself, and knew he was of no use to her.

"I'll ring for Lady Weber," he stated, before hurrying from the room. He could still hear her retching, as he rang the bell. He waited a moment, his stomach in knots. He contemplated fetching his mother, but he knew he couldn't leave her alone in this condition. He would have to sit out the wait beside his wife.

Swallowing his nerves, he returned to her side.

"I will not be offended if you leave," she told him upon his arrival, "you should not see me in this state."

The desire to sprint from room lingered inside him, but he forced himself to kneel beside her. He had never seen her appear so sickly and he did worry after her heath, he was just concerned at the tenderness in his own stomach.

"I will not allow you to suffer alone," he stated, against his better judgement. She sighed, lacking the strength to say much more. She had never been struck by sickness in her life, and she had come to the conclusion that she did not enjoy the sensation one bit.

A knock sounded on the door, and her husband jumped up at the sound.

"I shall be back in a moment," he told her, before rushing off to greet Lady Weber. Only to find himself, upon opening the door, facing the head house-maid. She looked out of place in his wife's door way, she had probably never been here while they occupied the room. She curtseyed and silently awaited instruction. The Prince sighed, running a hand through his hair; he needed support and there were only a few people that he would allow to be privy to his wife's ill health.

"Fetch Her Majesty and Lady Weber," he instructed, hoping one of the ladies would be able to assist him. The young maid nodded obediently and turned to carry out his instruction.

It seemed as if an eternity had passed him by, as he sat before his sick wife, by the time his mother arrived. She was pale and worried, and inelegant in her attire, although she appeared rather a lot better than his wife. She shooed her son out of the room, and rushed to her daughter-in-laws side. It would not do for him to see his wife in such a delicate condition. Once he was away from her side, she spoke gently to the young woman before her.

"_Isabella, when did you last have need of this bowl?" _she asked, directing her gaze towards the basin beside her.

"_Not long,"_ she mumbled her voice hoarse and shaky. She focused her attention on her aunt and mother-in-law, trying to ride her thoughts of the uneasy feeling in her stomach. Her Majesty eased herself onto her knees, and Isabella was horrified by the indignity of it.

"_Your Majesty, you mustn't_," she protested meekly, and her aunt brushed off the comment.

"_My dear, you are unwell, even the highest of us must assist those weaker than us," _she replied before asking, "_Do you feel able to rise?"_

Isabella did not respond for a moment, readying herself for movement. After a few minutes, she slowly nodded her head. She felt almost confident that she could rise without incident. Her Majesty offered her daughter-in-law her hand, and gently assisted her. Isabella was paler than usual, with a sickly jade tinting her normally rosy cheeks. Her Majesty forced herself not to worry after the condition of Isabella's stomach, as she led her from the wash room and towards her bed. After her bout of sickness; Isabella was sure to need rest. She had made the right choice sending her son away; it would not do to have him pestering her after taking such a funny turn.

It was most likely their over activity that had caused Isabella's stomach to react as it had this morning. They were over-indulging; since they had arrived at court, they had not spent one night apart. A thought crossed Her Majesty's mind then, _surely, it is not possible? _ She tried not to dwell on the idea's floating through her mind. It was too soon to tell, and over thinking the situation would only make for disappointment. Her Majesty helped Isabella into her bed, and resisted the urge to tuck her niece into the sheets. _She is a child no longer, _she reminded herself, _neither of them are. _Her son and his bride may still appear young, but they were wed, and with that came the status of adulthood. Isabella was not yet seventeen, and her son only just into his eighteenth year. They were barely grown children, it seemed wrong somehow to treat them as adults, simply because they were married; and married against their own wishes at that. Her Majesty did what she always did, however, and kept her opinion to herself.

She watched as Isabella's eyes began to droop, and rang the bell for a maid. She did not wish to leave her daughter-in-law without the necessities. A bowl and a glass of cold water were very much required in this situation. As Her Majesty moved herself away from Isabella's side, her daughter-in-law's little dog leapt up onto the bed beside his mistress. He crawled into the space beside her, nudging her gently with the top of his head.

Isabella reached out for her dog, petting him lightly, and took great comfort in his presence. A small part of her wished for Edward, as her tiny dog attempted to ease her suffering. She wanted her husband beside her, she may have tried to send him away, but she would have preferred his comfort than that of Her Majesty. That did not mean that she was not extremely grateful to have her mother-in-law beside her, she simply wished for the comfort only her husband could bring her. She had truly come to care for Edward. The blurred image of Her Majesty was the last thing she saw before she fell, gratefully, into slumber. It had been rather a long night; she had never been more willing to allow sleep to take her.

The late afternoon sun was well into its place in the heavens, when she finally awoke. She woke to the realisation that she was alone, accept for Dash, who still lay beside her, protecting her while she rested.

"_At least you stayed beside me,"_ she muttered down towards her little dog, and he raised his head at the sound of her voice. She petted his head, and he gazed up at her, his eyes almost worried.

"_I am well, _Dashy_, I promise_," she reassured him, before taking a moment to mentally assess the stability of her stomach. She had honestly not a clue, as to why she had taken such a terrible turn so early in the morn. Her stomach was calm now, if a little tender.

"_I feel much better now_," she added, when Dash looked unconvinced by her previous statement. The canine continued to gaze up at his mistress with a woeful expression.

"_Oh, I give up with you_," said she, her voice filling with laughter, after his expression failed to change, "_you really are such a silly thing_."

She stroked Dash's head, and stared up at the bed canopy. It was well past the time to rise, and she knew she could not stay abed for the remainder of the day without some consequence. She did not wish for the court to believe her unwell; she felt dandy now that she was well rested. Isabella lay still for a few moments longer, taking deep relaxing breaths, and pondered the idea of rising. After a moment, she found her gaze wondering towards where Edward normally lay. His covers were still disturbed, but he no longer lay beside her.

She was grateful, though saddened by the sight. She wished for him more now than she ever had in the past. His absence signified the change in situation. She was sure, that had they still been in Wales, he would not have left her. At Buckingham, however, her husband's attitude was almost completely different. He followed the rules here, and there absolutely was no chance that his father would allow him to stay beside his sick wife. His life was of more importance than his wife's; she was replaceable, he was not.

She sighed unhappily, she understood the reasons as to why he was not beside her, as he normally was upon waking, but that did not mean she had to like it. Isabella thought on it a moment and realised; the sooner she appeared well, the sooner he would be returned to her. She moved swiftly then, disturbing Dash most unforgivably. He huffed in annoyance, and leapt up off the bed. He stretched and wagged his tag, waiting for her to join him in standing. She peeled away the heavy cotton covers and reached across her bed to ring the bell. Lady Weber would be here within minutes, and she rose out of her bed, taking her pearl silk robe from the back of the chair at her vanity.

She headed into the washroom, with the intention to wash her face, she could feel the residue of sickness on her cheeks and she did not wish to be seen in such a condition, even by her ladies maid. Isabella had never had to pour her own water before, but she filled the basin with cold water that was left behind from her previous wash.

"_What exactly do you think you are doing?"_ Lady Weber reprimanded the moment she saw her mistress attending to herself. Isabella rang the wash cloth out, folded it and placed it over the side of marble sink.

"_I was merely washing my face,"_ she replied, smirking at her friend, _"is that forbidden?"_

Lady Weber did not appear pleased by her mistress's sense of humour. She had been informed that Isabella had been most unwell, she had arrived only moments after she had fallen into slumber, and had found Her Majesty by her friend's bedside. Her Majesty had told her all there was to know, and Lady Weber was not happy to see her friend out of bed. She surely should be resting?

Isabella sighed; she could almost feel her companion's worry seeping into the air around them.

"_Angela, I am well,"_ she hurriedly reassured her, "_whatever ailed me this morn, does not no longer."_

Lady Weber looked upon her mistress, puzzled by the statement and the sight of her looking so well. Her Majesty had stated that the young girl's stomach had been most upset, but here she stood bright eyed and almost cheerful.

"_Are you quite certain, my Lady?"_ she enquired, unsure but pleased all the same.

"_I am_," she replied hurriedly, "_now, will you assist me or should I tend to myself?"_

Lady Weber rushed to help her mistress then, through the process of washing and dressing. Isabella felt marvellous once dressed and prepared for the day. She wore a plain emerald frock, with small circles of blue detailing, and a simple gold chain with crucifix pendant. She smoothed down her skirt and checked her reflection in her vanity mirror, before venturing from her chamber. Lady Weber urged her to remain within her bedroom, but she refused. Hunger gnawed at her stomach, and at two in the afternoon, it was almost time for luncheon.

Isabella had wished to attend luncheon with her family, however, His Majesty had dismissed her back to her chamber. He did not wish to have his palace riddled with sickness. His Majesty did not like to treat his daughter-in-law, the daughter of his good friend, in such a way, but it was necessary.

Isabella was not best pleased; she felt like a naughty child being sent to the nursery with no supper. Lady Weber sat before her, after serving her the simple dinner that had been sent up for her. Isabella viciously tore at the bread and dipped the chunk into the rich broth. She was angered by her confinement; she had wished to leave Wales, only a week before, due to the lack of freedom, and now she found herself in much the same position.

Lady Weber tried to bring cheer to her mistress once again, and failed at every attempt. She sat silent and on edge, as she watched her irritated mistress eat her small meal. Once Isabella was done with the food, she reached forward and took the bowl from her.

Isabella rose then, and moved herself into an armchair. She sat, her back rigid against the chair, and stared out across the room. She was not pleased, and most certainly not amused. She could not think of a worse predicament than to be imprisoned in one's own rooms, with no entertainment at that. Now was she expected to past the time, when she was left with nothing to occupy her?

It was growing late, however, and Isabella realised then, that she would not be unoccupied for long. Her husband would visit her soon, and she was rather looking forward to seeing him. Then it stuck her like a painful blow, if she was to stay abed this day, would her husband be permitted to visit her?

She grew lonelier still at thought: she would be very lonely indeed if her husband did not visit her, regardless of Lady Weber and Dash's company. The little dog, as if he heard her mental complaint, wandered over to her. He put his paws up against her skirt and attempted to place himself upon her lap. The tiny spaniel could not do so alone, and taking pity on him, Isabella reached down and pulled him onto her lap. As she smoothed his fur, Lady Weber cleared away the dishes.

Arms laden with dishes, Lady Weber stopped before her mistress, and a thought stuck her. Isabella was irritated most of all by the lack of entertainment, if she could fetch her mistress something to occupy her time, it may lighten her sour mood.

"_Is there anything you wish for me to fetch for you, my Lady?" _

Isabella looked up, slightly confused by the sudden question.

"_Perhaps a book or some needlework?" _she elaborated, after a moment of silence. Isabella slowly smiled at her friends attempt at humour, "_Lord knows of my hatred for embroidery, Angela."_

Lady Weber chuckled; her mistress would never be a seamstress. She preferred reading and drawing, and on occasion dancing.

"_I shall fetch a book then, my Lady,"_ she told her, "_I shant be long."_

Isabella sighed once the heavy wooden door had closed behind her ladies maid. She slouched down in her seat, and prepared herself for a long and tiresome evening. She hoped her sickness would stay at bay and that she would be permitted to leave by the next morn. She truly could not stand the idea of being cooped up within her rooms for another day; she was not sure she could bare it. As the thought crossed her mind, her stomach churned unpleasantly. She forced herself upright once again at the sensation, although regretted doing so almost immediately. Her stomach lurched and she felt bile rising into her throat. Her poor dog landed, bewildered at his change in circumstance, as his mistress bolted for the washroom. He scurried after her, and yelped unhappily at the sight of her emptying her stomach over the basin.

Tears fell from her eyes, and she sobbed at the ache in her stomach and the rawness in her throat. Her stomach had never before been so wanting of sustenance; it ached and hunger tore at her insides once again. She leant back against the washroom wall and she knew, as she regained some semblance of strength, that she was most certainly not free of the illness that ailed her. She had been rather naïve to believe that her illness would leave after such a brief visit. She did not blame His Majesty for confining her any longer; she saw the need for such action now. She did not wish this sickness upon others of her acquaintance.

As she became lost in her thoughts, and attempted to calm her stomach after another attack, Dash crawled over to her. Laying his head upon her lap once again, she smiled down towards him and found she had to remark.

"_You are the only constant source of company I have had this day," _she thought aloud,_ "I must thank you, my ever faithful companion." _

Dash did not offer her a reply; he merely licked affectionately at her hand. She laid a hand upon his smooth head, closed her eyes and prepared herself to move. As much as she lacked the desire to move; she could not rest on the icy marble tiles for long. Dash permitted her to pet him, and smiled a canine smile, which his mistress unconsciously returned. She was so fortunate to have been given such a wonderful gift. She could never thank Edward enough for Dash; the King Charles spaniel was surely the most special present. Nothing her husband could ever bestow upon her, in the years to come, would ever compare to Dash, or so she thought.

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**I think you were all expecting this to come, though what _this _is you will all have to wait until next week for the Confirmation. **

**Also, I need to mention that I've had a new banner made for this story over at Twilighted! It's amazing :D and I'm so chuffed with it! You must all see it! Well, if you want too :P - (https: /lh5 . googleusercontent . com/-iJhrv0HuWQ8 /T7kXzWD6AyI/AAAAAAAAAaI /ivfKaE1_wzM/s800/ Betrothalbyauntiepanda . png****)**

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**Thank you all so much! Hope you enjoyed it :) Abbie :) **


	12. Confirmation

**Hiya :) I'm back again :) **

**So here's the _confirmation_ you're all after :) Hope you like it...**

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Chapter Eleven

Confirmation

His Majesty's attention was fixed solely on his wife, as she finished her embroidery. Her shoulders were tense and he knew that she worked simply to occupy her thoughts. She worried greatly after their daughter-in-law. Isabella had suffered terrible sickness for over a week, and his son had begun to worry frantically, insisting they call the doctor. His Majesty had agreed, and this was why his wife was so tense. The doctor was calling upon their daughter-in-law at this moment. Her ladies were present and would escort the doctor to His Majesty's study once he had completed his exam. His Majesty hoped the doctor would arrive shortly; he did not like to see his wife distressed. His gaze lingered upon her, and he studied her intently as she drew the needle up through the cotton. His keen eyes spotted the slight tremble to her usually steady hand.

"Are you well, dearest?" he enquired, concerned for her.

She sighed, and set her needlework in her lap.

"It is not my health that matters today, my dear, and you know it," his wife replied, irritated by the question.

As if her delicate nerves mattered at all this day, he should not be concerned after her, he should be concerned after Isabella. The poor child had been terribly ill these past few days. Her Majesty had her suspicions as to the cause of her daughter-in-law's illness, but it was surely it was much too soon for that. Granted, she would be delighted if Isabella was found to be with child, however, she worried after her. The young woman would surely not take the news well; her mother, her majesty's sister, had died in childbirth. She was sure Isabella would become anxious at the thought of carrying a child, since unlike some young mothers; she knew all too well the possible danger of labour. She wondered then, as to how her young daughter-in-law would cope with expectant motherhood; she was still so very young. She wished now, that her husband had not insisted on them marrying so young, even if Isabella and Edward had taken every part of married life in their stride. They seemed rather happy with the match, but she had to wonder at how long their happiness would last if a new addition should arrive so early into their marriage.

A gentle knock upon the oak wood door drew Her Majesty's attention from her thoughts. Her eyes met with her husbands, and they both rose from their seats, preparing to meet with the doctor. A plump man with thick sideburns and a handlebar moustache greeted the King and his Queen. His Majesty invited the man to sit, he took the invitation gratefully. The patterned armchair groaned beneath the weight of the portly gentleman and Her Majesty tried her level best not to groan herself at such a sight. Her husband's chair would surely never recover from an encounter with the doctor. He was not the usual doctor that attended to the royal family, but unfortunately for them all, their doctor had passed away two months previous. Their previous doctor had delivered all three of Her Majesty's children, with the help of a midwife of course, and Her Majesty had been rather fond of him. His passing was such a shame.

"I hope you will not be offended," His Majesty began, "if we skip all the pleasantries and proceed directly to the delicate matter of my daughter-in-law's health."

The doctor nodded his head once, and hurriedly replied to His Majesty. Her Majesty fixed her eyes upon the doctor, her attention focused only on him. She had waited most of the day for this report, and she was did not wish to miss a word.

"Of course, Your Majesty, I expect you have been most worried," he spoke in a pompous voice. An attempt to appear higher than his rank, Her Majesty assumed. She would have laughed had she been in better spirits.

Once the doctor realised that neither of the royal couple intended to reply or admit to their worries, he cleared his throat awkwardly.

"It appears that the Princess of Wales is in the family way," he stated simply. The King and Queen eyed each other from across the room. The King appeared shocked, but delighted at the news, whereas his wife's heart sank. She would only delight in a grandchild once the child and her daughter-in-law were safe and well. It would be a long time coming, of that she knew all too well. Her husband frowned at the sight, he would've thought with most certainty that his wife would be glad to hear of such news. He did not think for a moment she would appear so disheartened, and he wondered at her thoughts, but did not question her given present company.

"Thank you, Dr," he replied, the doctor nodded his head and continued, much to the King's displeasure.

"You should be aware, Your Majesty, that it still very early and her course is only a week later than usual. My diagnoses may be void if the Princess' course should arrive."

The King knew exactly as to what the doctor spoke, having lost four children to miscarriage and one born still; both he and his wife knew the precarious nature of pregnancy. Nothing would be certain, until the child was in her arms.

"I am aware of all the risks, as is my wife," he stated unhappily, his memories of darker times dampening his mood, "Thank you, again, and I hope very much that we will not have need of your services for many months to come."

The doctor smiled politely, and after a pleasant farewell, was escorted from the drawing room. His Majesty turned his attention towards his wife, the moment they were alone.

"What troubles you, wife?" he asked of her, gazing across the space between them. Her Majesty forced herself to meet her husband's concerned gaze. She would have to reveal her worries; he would not drop the subject until she did. After three and twenty years of marriage, she had learnt a thing or two about her husband; nothing ever satisfied his curiosity. She sighed, but admitted to herself that it would be simpler to speak only the truth to her husband. He would assure her of her concerns, she was sure.

"Do not think that I am not overjoyed at the news, I am very much," she started after a moment, "however, I cannot help, but worry after Isabella, she is so very young."

His Majesty sighed, "as if age matters in this instance," he commented impatiently.

Her Majesty felt the sting of tears prick at her eyes, and blinked furiously. She did not wish to cry before her husband. The shame of it! She could not help it; however, his sharp dismissal of her concerns stung her like a slap to the cheek.

"It is not simply her age," she continued irritated, "tell me, Carlisle, do you honestly not worry after her?"

Her husband fell silent, and turned away from her. After a moment, when the silence grew too much to bear, she answered her own question.

"I know you well, my dear," she stated bravely, "I know you fear for her also, but you are simply too proud to speak of it. I apologise for my weakness and feelings, but I cannot help, but think towards her mother. The moment she knows, she will fret, her thoughts will go to the same place that mine have. I fear that she will lose her child, or lose her life to it, and I am not ashamed or too proud to admit such."

His Majesty turned to face his enraged wife, and sighed quietly to himself. Her temper usually amused him, but the sight of hurt in her emerald eyes took all hilarity from the situation.

"Esme," he said softly, "I apologise for being proud, and for not offering you reassurance as I should have."

He reached out to her, and against her better judgement, she allowed her husband to comfort her.

"Tell me truthfully, wife," he questioned as he held her tight against his chest, "why does this frighten you so? Surely, you knew this was the intended outcome of their marriage?"

"Of course I knew," she muttered, her cheek pressed against his fine waistcoat.

"Then why does the idea cause you such distress?"

It took her moment to admit it to herself, it was selfish and she would admit her true feelings to no one but her husband.

"She is all I have left of Renee. I lost my sister," she admitted reluctantly, "I do not wish to lose my niece too."

His Majesty understood the depth of her concern now, he had thought her worries to be overdramatized, but he knew how much leaving France had pained his wife. It was not for a love of her country, but for a love of her family that she had not wished to leave. He knew had asked much of her, when he had requested her hand, during a visit to the French court. She had not exactly been at liberty to decline his offer. When the King of England requested something of you, you did not refuse. She would not have refused him regardless; she had known Carlisle was meant to be hers, the moment she laid eyes upon him, before she even knew who he was. He had felt similar, the reason for his hasty proposal. Her sister; Renee, was the new Queen at the time of his visit; she was yet to be crowned and given her titles. He remembered her fondly, and understood his wife's grief better now.

"We will not lose her," he told his wife, adamant of that fact, "we have better doctors here than in France, my dearest, you know this, and I am sure our son will not allow for anything, but the very best."

Her Majesty found herself smiling at the comment, 'twas true her son was very protective of his wife, and they had not been married long. She could see already that her son was heading towards being very much in love with Isabella. He would never allow for an incompetent physician to care for her. Her worries were far from gone, but she allowed herself to think beyond them for a moment. She wondered now, at how her son would handle the news of impending fatherhood. She remembered that her husband had not been much involved in the children's upbringing, and hoped that her son would differ from his father in this respect. She thought on it for a moment, and came to the realisation, that her hopes for her son were unlikely. Carlisle would not allow Edward much involvement with his children. Her husband was a firm believer in the separation of male and female roles. A man had no place amongst his children, until they were old enough to care from themselves.

She began to wonder once again, as to Isabella's reaction. It was very early days in regards to her condition, she would surely not guess correctly for many weeks yet. Her Majesty knew, she would live to regret the decision that formed in her mind, but she could not help it. Surely, it would be in Isabella's best interest, if she did not know about her child. Of course, she was sure to figure it out once the child began to show, but if they could keep her worry to a minimum, then surely that would be for the best? She mentioned her passing thought to her husband, and he replied simply.

"Do you believe that she has not come to this conclusion, before the doctor's visit?" he questioned, and Her Majesty released herself from his embrace. She gazed up him, and thought on his words.

"It is entirely possible; she is a clever woman, but must we confirm it, while she is still within her first month?" she asked, hoping her husband would agree to her wishes.

His Majesty shook his head, he saw no need to confirm any suspicions that his daughter-in-law may keep. His son would have to be informed, however, and he thought it unlikely that Edward would be able to withhold the information from his wife. He thought on it further and came to a decision.

"We shall inform Edward of his wife's delicate condition," He stated, "I will allow him the final decision, as to when she is told."

Her Majesty was not overly pleased by this decision, her son would not keep the knowledge from her, and His Majesty knew this. She was not best pleased, but was wise enough to know that her husband's decisions were final. She had her say, and there was nothing more she could do now. It was out of her hands; worry returned to her that instant. Isabella would not take this news well, of that she was certain.

* * *

Edward seated himself at his father's instruction.

"I suppose you have called me here to discuss Isabella's health?" he questioned, and his father nodded curtly. There was no use in dragging out this conversation. His Majesty knew that his son was anxious to see his wife; all he waited for was the all clear. His Majesty had refused to allow his son contact with his wife during the last week. Prince Edward the heir to his throne; to his families' dynasty. He would not risk the health of his son, simply because he wished to send time with his wife. He did not regret the decision, her illness may not have been what His Majesty had ordinarily suspected, but the possibility of his son contracting the illness had plagued his mind. He'd lost many a friend to a sickness of the stomach; he would not lose his eldest son to such an inelegant demise.

"It transpires that Isabella is in a delicate condition," His Majesty started, and he watched his son's face pale considerably. The poor boy was very fond of his wife, and the thought of her in any amount discomfort or ill health brought worry to his heart.

"She is well, son," His Majesty hurriedly reassured his son, and sighed unsure as to whether he had chosen the correct path of delivering this news. He could almost see that he would have to reassure his son many times, before this evening was through.

"Isabella's condition is something we must celebrate," he continued, and his son frowned, until the penny dropped. His father had informed him, many months before Isabella had arrived in England, the intended outcome from their union; children. Of course, the Prince had not been ignorant of this, he was, however, most surprised to hear of his wife's being in the family way, so early into their life together.

"Are you certain?" He asked of his father. His Majesty smiled slightly, glad that his son had cottoned on quickly. He leaned back into his chair, allowing himself to become comfortable against the cushions.

"The doctor is almost sure," His Majesty told his son, "it is still early days, however, and nothing will be certain until the child is born."

The Prince Edward frowned, "Nothing will be certain?" he questioned his father's statement. His Majesty nodded, and began forming an explanation, when his silent wife spoke up beside him.

"Edward," he turned towards his mother, "you are my third born child, and yet you are the eldest of my three children. Just because Isabella carries your child at this moment does not to guarantee that you will be blessed with a child."

"Esme," her husband spoke sharply, "do not frighten the man. There is every possibility that the child will be carried to term, and delivered unto this world healthy and wailing."

Prince Edward preferred his father's statement over his mothers. He tried not to dwell on thoughts of losing the child that he had only just learned the existence of. If anything should happen, then it would be God's will, and they would have to accept the almighty's decision; he would surely have his reasons.

"The outcome will be above our control," the young Prince stated, much to his parents disbelief, "I shall think positively, and I am sure that Isabella will do the same."

His Majesty glanced towards his wife, and the young Prince took note of their exchange with interest. He did not question his father, however, and awaited his father's reply.

"That is a marvellous way to think on it, son," His Majesty stated proudly, "I am most proud of your maturity and spirit."

The young Prince Edward smiled at his father, and thought towards his wife; had they shared this news with her? Or had his parents been the first to hold this knowledge?

"I find I must ask, father," Prince Edward questioned reluctantly, "Has Isabella been informed?"

His Majesty appeared relived, "She has not, as yet, been told. We were intending to place this particular matter into your hands."

Prince Edward swallowed nervously, "You wished for me to tell her?" he asked in disbelief. In a normal world, it would have been his wife who would have informed him of her condition, not his parents, and it would certainly not have been his responsibility to inform his wife. He was most shocked, but did not allow his nervous to affect him much. He longed for his wife.

"We believed it for the best," His Majesty stated, "it will be entirely your decision as when she is informed. If you wish to not have this burden, then your mother will discuss the matter with her."

He thought on it for a moment, and decided against his mother's involvement. He would see his wife shortly, and he would tell her himself once they were alone. At the thought, Prince Edward found himself impatient to reacquaint himself with his wife. A week apart was far too long.

"That will not be necessary," the Prince replied, "I shall tell her myself. I shall go to her now, should you allow it?"

His Majesty noticed the change in his son's demeanour, and found himself smirking at the sight. He had never thought he would see this day; the day when his son showed passion for something besides his formal duties. The light in his son's eyes was all too obvious.

"Of course, son, I can sense that you are itching to see your wife," His father said, smirking knowingly.

"Your senses are most accurate, father," the Prince replied, "I must inform her of her condition, and I feel as though I must converse with her on the matter."

Her Majesty grew worried then; her daughter-in-law would be told tonight of her delicate condition, regardless of her opinions on the matter.

"Son," she attempted one last time, only for His Majesty to silence her with a single look. His expression spoke for him; _stay out of this._

"You will pass on our congratulations to Isabella?" His Majesty requested politely, and his son smiled cheerfully.

"Of course, father," he replied and bid his parents farewell. He had no desire for idle chit chat with his parents. He wanted his wife, he needed her. He had been anxious and worried after her these past days without her. The news that she was in the family way brightened his heart and stifled his worries. He was sure that his worries were not put to rest permanently, but he tried to think only positive thoughts in regards to his wife's condition. Whatever happened would happen; it would be God's will, he reminded himself, as he headed towards his wife's chamber. He had never been more eager to see her.

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**Bit of a filler chapter, my apologies :) **

**Chapter 12 isn't quite finished yet, so there may be a slight delay next week :/ hopefully not though :) **

**Thanks for reading :) **


	13. Death Sentence

**Hiya :) **

**Really did not think I was going to finish this in time :/ but I have! :D Erm I'm a little unsure about this, as it's taken so long to write, its a little choppy, but it's the best I can do. Hopefully the next chapter will be a little more interesting :) Oh and if you see any mistakes or things that just don't make sense, please tell me as I haven't actually read through this yet! **

**Thanks, Abbie **

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Chapter Twelve

Death Sentence

The novel lay open before her, and she tried to focus her attention on the heroine's plight, however, her thoughts wandered away from the turn of the century novel, and she raised her gaze unto the door. She sighed, and lowered her eyes back to the page. She had waited long for someone to appear at her door. Surely, the doctor must have discovered her illness, and reported to His Majesty; she could see no reason for the delay. She turned her attention towards her novel; in the hopes that it may distract her from her never-ending wait.

'_Catherine's heart beat quick, but her courage did not fail her. With a cheek flushed by hope and an eye straining with curiosity, her fingers grasped the handle–' _

A sharp knock jolted the Princess of Wales from her novel. Her thoughts diverted instantly towards her caller; it would most surely be the doctor, come to inform her of her ailment.

"Enter," she called to her visitor, folding her book and placing it onto the small table beside her chair; Catherine Moorland's adventures at Northanger Abbey would simply have to wait.

She was pleasantly surprised at her visitor, and at seeing him, her face lit up and she smiled a brilliant smile.

"Edward?" she asked delighted but uncertain, "Are you quite sure this is wise?"

She began to feel a sense of happiness expanding in her stomach, as he grinned down at her.

"I am indeed," he replied, crossing the floor with a powerful stride. He stood before his wife, and her heart began to beat fast within her chest. She knew his intention the moment their eyes met. He gazed down upon her, his eyes lustful and wanting. All curiosity as to her sickness left her mind; they had been forced to endure six days without contact, and now all their built up need and passion had to be vented. She rose from her seat, and pulled her husband to her. He moved willingly, and they shared a sigh of relief, as their lips met urgently. She melted into his chest, and his hands grasped her firmly. Their hips aligned and she found herself quivering in want. She had never desired her husband's attentions as much as she did this day. Their actions were frantic and clumsy, as they stripped each other of their unending layers of clothes, all the while attempting to remain connected by their kiss.

Her chemise fell to her feet, landing atop her skirt and petticoat. She stood bare before her husband. He reached up to pull the pins from her hair; it was simply done, so not too much of a challenge for him. He had had many attempts at undoing her elaborate hair styles during their five weeks of marriage; he was rather a master at it, as he now was with corset strings. He stood back from her, himself as bare as the day he arrived unto this world, and observed her. A sense of venerability filled her, as he gazed upon her, lust shining in his bright emerald eyes. She dipped her chin, as insecurity stuck her. Her husband noticed her delayed reaction to exposure, and approached, grasping her chin gently. She shivered at the contact of his warm, smooth skin against hers. He lowered his head, and reassured her of his passion for her with a kiss that left her gasping for breath. She drew away to fill her desperate lungs, and he took a moment to regain his own breath.

His hands moved towards her hips, gripping her gently and steering her towards the bed. They fell onto her mattress in a mess of limbs. From beneath him, she giggled at his actions, and he surprised her by laughing also; her happiness was utterly infectious. She attempted to right herself somewhat, and his laughter died almost instantly, as she moved against him unintentionally. His previous intentions returned to the forefront of his mind, and he moved off his wife. She looked upon him curiously, as he stood before her at the edge of her bed; surprised by his change in position. Her husband grinned wickedly and butterflies sprang to life in her stomach at the expression. He moved slowly, placing his hands upon her hips, and teasing her with a tedious pace, as he moved his hand lower and attended to her want with his fingers.

She reacted accordingly, as pleasure shot through her body at his gentle, yet powerful touch. She had been in much need of this. As she neared bliss, he drew his hand away slowly, and she found herself pouting at his actions. Until she realised his intention, and gasped at the sensation, as he entered her swiftly. The act itself was inelegant and hurried. She cried out quickly, due to his previous attention towards her. He collapsed unto her, as he reached his own blissful release. She sighed happily, as he lay above her, and stared up at him, committing his expression, that moment, to memory. He smiled down at her, and after a moment, rolled onto his side, beside her.

"I will admit, I was in much need of that," he stated grinning drowsily.

"As was I," she admitted, much to his surprise.

His shock at her statement only caused her further amusement. She giggled and moved onto her side also. She gazed at him, and gradually her laughter faded.

"We should never separate ourselves again," he muttered hopeful, though knowing that his suggestion was void. In the coming months, they would likely spend more time apart than together; the thought caused him great pain. He realised then, that he had yet to tell her. He had intended to inform her the moment he entered her chamber, but the sight of her had roused his passion and he had allowed himself to become distracted.

"Then let us hope, I shall not be confined again," she stated in reply, her voice equally hopeful. He seemed not to hear her words, and his eyes wandered towards her bare abdomen, and he frowned at the thought that struck his mind; if she was with child, why could he not see evidence of it? Her stomach was smooth and level, as it always was. She noticed his curious stare, and the frown that formed across his brow.

"What troubles you?"

He sighed, and drew his eyes away from evaluating his wife's stomach. He would have to tell her, but yet he did not wish to ruin this moment.

"I have the knowledge that you have waited on," he admitted quietly, "and yet I really do not wish to divulge it."

Her face drained of colour, and he thought she may be struck with sickness once again, but it was not sickness that paled her, it was worry. Perhaps his phrasing had not been the best choice. He saw panic building within her at his statement, and took her face into his hands. He held her gaze, and forced himself to be honest and simply say what he most needed to say.

"Bella, your sickness is nothing to worry over," he stated, and she, predictably, appeared doubtful, "the doctor believes that you are with child. My father is off the understanding that it is still early days, but the doctor was quite sure on the subject."

_The doctor believes you are with child; _her husband's words rang through her mind and her worry was far from silenced. She had awaited this news since her first bout of sickness, and she had to admit it, she was not too surprised. She knew that this was the outcome that they had all hoped for; she just wished she could turn her mind onto positive thoughts. A memory of her mother's cold and pale form surfaced, her middle still swollen by the presence of the child that had brought her to an early death. She forced the image back into the depths of her thoughts. She knew, however, that that outcome was entirely a possibility. It mattered not that she was younger and healthier than her mother had been, though surely God did not intend to take her the same way? She sent a silent pray towards the heavens.

She noticed her husband then, his hand had left her face and grasped her hand firmly; she stared down at their joined hands.

"Mother said you would worry," he muttered, reaching a hand up, once again, to stroke her cheek, "you mustn't worry yourself over this. You will have only the best doctors; I will not allow any harm to come to you or to our child."

She did not appear convinced, her father had provided only the best for her mother, and yet she had not survived. The doctors had claimed, however, in regards to her mother that previous miscarriages and complications, had led to her weakened health; there had been nothing they could do to save their Queen.

She thought over his statement and a phrase took hold of her attention most avidly; _our child. _Those two words caused the smallest spark of hope to ignite within her person.

"The doctor was quite certain?" she questioned, at last and her husband's relief was evident.

"According to my father, yes," he replied, and watched as she placed a gentle hand upon her stomach. After a silent moment of contemplation on her part, Edward could bare her silence no longer.

"It is remarkable is it not?" he commented almost happily.

She did not offer her husband a reply, and stood from her bed. She went to her mirror, full length with a golden elegant frame. In complete silence, she regarded her figure, before coming to the same conclusion as her husband; there was no sign, yet, of the child she carried within her.

"I do not see it," she stated, and her husband moved to stand behind her.

"Neither do I," he replied, "but that does not mean the diagnosis is wrong. Am I right in thinking that you wish it were?"

His question was born of genuine curiosity and not meant in any way, except to satisfy his need for information. He was not angered by her thoughts; she had every right to resent her situation. They were so newly married; it was almost cruel to be forced to share their limited time together, so soon into their marriage.

"I do not wish such," she told him truthfully. She was frightened; yes, but she was still happy at the thought of a child. She did not wish the situation to be otherwise. A child was a blessing, regardless of how young and unprepared she felt, and she reminded herself of this fact.

"I am frightened is all," she admitted timidly, staring at her reflection in the mirror. A tear fell, and she was ashamed at the sight of it. His arms went around her, and he pulled her into his embrace. Her emotion did not offend him; she had every right to cry, if she wished too.

"I have already told you, have I not, that I shall not allow you to leave me," he repeated, hoping to reassure her, "I shall venture to heaven and bring you back to me, should it come to that."

To his relief, she giggled at the preposterous notion.

"You are most ridiculous, do you know that?"

He grinned at her reflection and she turned away from the mirror and buried her face into his bare chest. She had yet to reach a decision as to her feelings towards her situation, but her indecision mattered not this minute. All that mattered to her this moment was the solace she found within her husband embrace. She had much to think on, but she focused her mind on more pleasant thoughts, and came to the decision that she would think on her situation more openly, once she was alone.

The time to reflect upon her situation arrived within a few hours. Dinner had been most ordinary; His Majesty had of course mentioned her clean bill of health to the family, but other than the brief statement, nothing more was spoken of her time away from court. She returned to her room, eager to retire for the evening. She had not been expecting to end the day feeling so desolate and dejected, when she had awoken this morn. She was most unhappy with her situation. She had been freed from confinement, but imprisoned by her troubled thoughts. Isabella had not truly enjoyed her evening away from her chamber; she had longed to return here in fact, much to her surprise.

She sat at her vanity, and stared vacantly at her reflection. Her skin appeared almost white in the dim lighting. The worry she felt towards her situation had brought about yet more sickness after dinner. She had excused herself from the table, before all others, as the need to rid her stomach of its contents became intense and left her unable to ignore the feeling. Having the knowledge as to why she always felt so uneasy, did not make the experience more pleasant. In fact, she felt worse for knowing. Her sickness was not a simply stomach upset, she was in the family way. She unconsciously placed a hand over her corseted stomach, but could not accept the fact that she knew to be true. She thought of the child and of her possible fate, and tears fell. She was quite alone in her chamber, and allowed herself a moment to release her feelings. She knew the possible outcome of childbearing, and no matter what her husband said in attempt to comfort, she was anything but reassured. She could not help, but cry at the thought. Her own mother had succumbed to bring her child into the world, and Isabella could not ride the thought from her mind. She did not wish to die. It did not seem to matter to her, that her mother had survived three labours, her own birth and two still, prior to Emmett's birth. She simply could not think on the positives this day; she cried for many a moment, until a sound behind her, alerted her to the fact that she was alone no longer.

"My Lady? I thought you were in the drawing room_,_" Angela stated in confusion, to her mistress, as she placed the freshly laundered garments onto the chest of drawers. She noticed her mistress' distress the moment that Isabella turned, upon seeing her tears she enquired in French, quite alarmed by the sight,_ "Oh my lady, has something happened? Are you well?" _

She hurried to her side, and Isabella merely shook her head at the questions that Lady Weber put to her. Lady Weber wondered at which question that her mistress her responded too, but did not question her further. She knew her mistress well, if she wished to discuss her thoughts then she would, if she did not, then she would not. There would be no swaying her in either direction. Isabella rose the moment she noticed her friend, and spilled every thought that passed through her mind at that moment.

"_Oh Angela, I knew from the moment he took me to bed, that this could happen, but I did not think on it. I only took pleasure in his attention! I did not for one moment imagine that this would occur so soon. Have I displeased the Lord? Have I angered him? What have I done to deserve such a fate?"_

Lady Weber looked upon her mistress with confusion. She did not understand a word of Isabella's hurried rambling. Her mistress sobbed through her words, and they were quite disguised and unrecognisable through such a torrent of tears.

"_My Lady, I do not quite understand?" _

Isabella did not explain in detail, she merely stated; "_Edward! He has sentenced me to my death with his pleasurable acts!"_

Lady Weber frowned and thought over the words, but she could not make sense of them.

"_Bella_," she spoke softly, "_calm yourself, and speak plainly. Tell me what pains you, so that I may assist you and relieve you of your burden."_

Isabella took a moment to look towards her companion and realised that she must have rambled almost complete nonsense, to have caused such an expression upon Angela's face. She forced herself into her seat, and took a deep calming breath. Once she noticed her mistress calming, she broached the subject of her troubles once again.

"_Now, My Lady, explain to me, if you will, what is troubling you," _Lady Weber asked, perching herself on the corner of Isabella's bed. She noticed that the covers were disturbed, and she knew the Prince had visited his wife mid-afternoon, but she tried not to think on the activities of a husband and wife; it was none of her concern, after all.

"_I am in the family way," _she muttered quietly and some of her previous rambling began to make sense in Lady Weber's head, "_I am frightened, I did not wish for this to happen so soon. I do not wish to die." _

Lady Weber instantly began to understand, and thought of how best to reply. She saw no reason to fret over such a joyous occasion. Her friend was truly over thinking in regards to her situation. This was a time for celebration, not fear.

"_My Lady, that is wonderful news_," she replied, "_The Lord has not punished you, My dearest Bella, he has blessed you; you and Edward._ _I understand your worry, and yes, some women do part from this world due to complications with their labour, but My Lady, not every woman does. I wish you not to fret over this, you should be happy."_

Isabella scoffed at the notion, "_my mother died in childbirth, surely I will too." _

Lady Weber sighed, "_My Lady, you are being most ridiculous_."

Isabella frowned at her friend; her tone was blunt and almost unkind. She replied fiercely, upset by her friends tone.

"_I am not being ridiculous! It is obvious! God took my mother, and now he plans to take me too!" _

Lady Weber smiled pleasantly despite her friend's anger,_ "I am sure that God will call you to heaven one day, but I do not think he will be requesting your presence too soon, My Lady. Since you do not wish to leave this world, then you must tell yourself that you will not. Nothing is stronger than your own will." _

Isabella pondered the thought, and turned away from her friend. She stared vacantly at the mirror once again, and Lady Weber sighed.

"_My Lady, nothing shall happen to you_," she stated, "_the risk is there, but it is slim. From this moment, you must not think on it. You must instead focus you're mind on happier thoughts." _

"_But-" _Isabella started, but was instantly cut off before she could protest.

"_No, My Lady, I do not wish to hear it. Nothing shall happen to you, your child will be happy and healthy," Lady Weber interrupted, adding when the thought struck her, "and with any luck it will be a boy."_

A tiny hint of a giggle escaped Isabella, for the first time that evening; she felt her fear and sadness begin to diminish.

The image of a tiny child swaddled in cloth, and staring, green eyes bright and curious, up at her, formed in her mind. Until this moment, she had only looked upon her condition as something to be feared. At the image her mind conjured up, her fear began to dissipate. She was still afraid of her condition, her fear was not gone; she would most likely fret intermittently throughout the duration, but she did as her ladies maid instructed, and looked towards the positive. The child she pictured brought with it, a sense of hope. She thought then towards her child. Any child she bared would be an heir to the English throne. It was her duty to provide Edward with children and as she would fulfil her duty to her new country with a smile upon her face. She sure Lady Weber would allow nothing less.

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**I have already decided, but**** what sex do you think the baby will be? and what do you think his/her name will? **

******Thanks for reading :) **

******Abbie :)**

******P.S the next chapter is mainly focused on Alice and Jasper, they're going to have their own little story running through this, so every now and then there will be chapters that are based around them, though its mainly Edward and Bella throughout :) Hope no one's groaning at that lol Oh and if I'm late updating next week, I'm sorry but from now on I will be writing the chapter during the week, whenever I have time, whereas I had chapters already written before. **


	14. Strolling in the Sunlight

**Oh my god, I was so close to not updating on time... but I did it and actually this is the longest chapter I've written for Betrothal. I'm pretty chuffed :) Anyway, I've literally just finished writing this, so I apologise if its not perfect, but its getting late and I need sleep! So here's chapter 13, Enjoy...**

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Chapter Thirteen

Strolling in the Sunlight

_Late May 1833_

The day started off as most ordinary through her eyes. It was only around mid-morning, when things began to differ from the norm. Her recently married elder sister, Cynthia, had been attending court with her husband; the next Duke of Devonshire. Cynthia had invited her sister to accompany them. She had seen the looks shared between, Mary-Alice and the Prince Jasper, and their mother had been most insistent that Mary spend as much time in his presence as she was able. Upon their arrival, Cynthia turned towards her sister; both of them dressed in their finest summer frocks.

"Mary, why don't you take a walk around the gardens? We shant be long."

Alice sighed, displeased at the use of her first name. Only Mama called her Mary, even her Papa had taken to calling her Alice. She agreed to take a walk however; she had no interest in the matters discussed at court. Her sister and her husband stood before the entrance to the hall, and Lady Alice began to turn away from them, just as the doorman announced them.

"Sir William of Devonshire," came the announcement, "the Lady Cynthia of Devonshire, and the Lady Mary-Alice of Cornwall."

Her sister looked displeased herself, as her sister was announced. There would be no strolls in the sunshine today. Lady Alice quickly stood straighter, as she realised she would have to enter the great hall.

Most of the court was already assembled, she observed, as she reluctantly followed her sister into the room. She had been here only a handful of times since the Prince and Princess of Wales' ball. She enjoyed her time at Buckingham Palace immensely. A glamorous life would suit her perfectly; she would have to marry a Duke or a Marquess if she wished to continue the lavish lifestyle that she had grown accustomed too. She thought on it then, the Duke of Norfolk and the Marquess of Bath had eligible sons. Though in truth, the Marquess of Bath's son was approaching his thirtieth year, and was perhaps considered a little too old for her fifteen year old self. Now the Duke of Norfolk's son, on the other hand, she had met with Michael on more than one occasion. He was the most stupid educated man she had ever been forced to share a table with. She truly believed her education had been more worthwhile than his. Still, a stupid man with a good title and a large fortune had to be considered as a good match.

Her thoughts wondered away from Sir Michael of Norfolk, as she surveyed the assembled noble's. Their eyes met and her heart beat just a little faster. She was wrong to consider him; His Majesty would never allow the match. Prince Jasper, Duke of York, was sure to be married to a Princess of Europe. King Carlisle had married off his eldest to the French Princess, and his daughter, Her Serene Highness the Princess Rosalie's, was to marry the Dauphin of France. It was a certainty that the Prince Jasper was to be wed to another of his rank. His Majesty was ambitious, and she was sure he would not allow his son to settle for the daughter of a Duke. These facts however, did not cease her wondering gaze.

The Prince struggled to focus on his father's announcements, his attention was held by Lady Mary-Alice. The young woman had occupied his thoughts since the moment he'd first laid eyes upon her, since the moment he took her into his arms. He could not rid his mind of her image; it drove him to the brink of insanity. She was the only woman who had ever caused such an intense surge of emotion; he wondered if she felt the same. He held her gaze, attempting to see into her mind. He wished to know that his feelings for her were mutual. He would not pursue her, until he knew the depth of her feeling. He worried however, that she may be the kind of woman to falsify feelings to gain his favour. He truly hoped not, since he would fall into her trap readily, if she chose to use his affection to her advantage. He tried not to think on it, he tried to concentrate on his father; and the repetitive string of announcements. His father looked equally uninterested, as he read from the script before him, and his mother concealed her yawn behind her fan. His brother continued to shot nervous glances towards his wife, who still appeared to have a jade tinge to her cheeks, and he grasped her hand beneath the oak wood table.

He had to admit, if only to his own mind, he was slightly envious of their happiness. He wished for happiness in marriage, and though he was still rather young, at only seventeen, he wanted to be wed. He hardly knew the lady, whom he wished to marry, but he would request it tomorrow, if it meant that he could take her to his bed. He longed for Lady Mary-Alice, in ways that he had not craved other ladies. He had taken others to his bed before; His Majesty had decided it would be best to educate his son in the ways of women. He had been forbidden to take Prince Edward to the brothel, but that did not mean he could not educate his younger son. Prince Jasper was well enough informed about the fairer sex, and he knew exactly what his body craved from Lady Mary. The trouble was, there was a small part of him that did not wish to taint her. She was so lovely, so pure; he could not bear to ruin her; this being the reason behind his wish to marry her. He wanted Lady Mary-Alice in his bed, but he wished to be the only man to ever take her there. As he gazed upon her in that moment, she blushed and hid her scarlet cheeks from his view, and the look of sheer innocence upon her face only caused his need for her to grow. He knew then, that the moment this meeting of court was finished, he would most defiantly have to find a cause to seek her company.

* * *

Words failed him. They died in his throat. He swallowed nervously at the sight of her. All his confidence appeared before was now suddenly false, as he thought on how to approach her. His intentions were entirely pure; even if his thoughts were not. He noticed his sister in law then from across the room; she glanced over in his direction from his brother's side. Her eyes followed his gaze and she smirked noticeably, when she realised what, or more appropriately, who, the Prince Jasper could not tear his eyes from. She went to Lady Mary then, quiet whispered words were exchanged, and the two ladies exited the hall and strode from his sight. He stared after them, contemplating how best to approach this situation. He should follow after them, but then again he should not; he did not wish to behave inappropriately. He looked towards his brother, a plan formulating in his mind; Edward stared after his wife, worry in his eyes. His brother's worrisome nature would assist him nicely in this situation.

He walked briskly over to his brother's side,

"Should you wish to keep her within your sights, I would happily accompany you,"

The Prince Edward turned towards his brother, and his peculiar words. He did not think on it long though, and decided to take walk with his brother. In truth, he did not wish to let Isabella from his view. He worried terribly after his wife, she had accepted her current situation, but he knew she was unhappy, which caused him to worry after her. The Prince Jasper awaited his brother's reply; the older man appeared lost within his mind.

"A walk in her direction would appear less suspicious with company," his brother replied, sounding almost like he spoke to himself. The Prince Jasper was delighted by his brother's reply, with Edward's decision; they would both be able to spy on their ladies.

The gardens were bright, sunlight warming the earth and plant life. Dash yapped happily, as he wove between the bushes. Lady Mary-Alice knelt to the floor, retrieved the pup's ball, and rose gracefully. She handed the item to her Royal Highness the Princess of Wales, and tried not to stare at the woman in awe. She had understood the woman's attention towards her during the ball a fortnight ago, after the scene her and her mother had witnessed, she had almost been expecting it. She had not been expecting to be singled out once again, however. Her Royal Highness had taken her by surprise, but she had been most eager to befriend the lady, and so had accepted her invitation to walk with her most readily.

"Dashy?" the Princess of Wales called towards her little dog, and Lady Mary-Alice tried not to appear shocked at everything she said. It failed her imagining's to assume that the Princess was anything close to a normal person, but every time she spoke, every action or simple mannerism, appeared as normal as any other person. Their brief encounter during the ball had shown her some of Her Royal Highness' personality, but Lady Mary-Alice had believed her kind attitude to be falsified. She knew better now, the woman she had encountered before, was indeed the real Princess of Wales.

The Princess, who currently occupied her thoughts, spoke, drawing the Lady Mary-Alice from her mental musings.

"Have you enjoyed your time at court, Lady Mary?" she asked politely, throwing the ball for her little dog to fetch.

Lady Mary-Alice responded appropriately, "Of course, Your Highness, I have much love for Buckingham Palace."

The Princess Isabella smiled pleasantly, "I am most glad to hear it; I myself am rather in love with it. The gardens are not quite as grand as they were in Versailles, but then, the interior of the palace cannot be equalled."

Lady Mary-Alice found herself laughing lightly at Her Royal Highness' comment, and the Princess Isabella looked towards her companion curiously.

"My mother would disagree with you, Your Highness," Lady Mary hurriedly explained, "she often states how wonderful an English garden in, and how it cannot be rivalled. In truth, Your Highness, she does not cease to comment on most things, and she has never been France, her parents were fonder of Spain."

The Princess Isabella laughed heartily at Lady Mary's reply. _Fond of Spain indeed_, she thought, she had never heard such utter nonsense, as if any sane person could be fond of Spain. The awful Duchess was living up to the Princess' assumptions rather nicely.

"I do not doubt that for a moment," the Princess replied, after her laughter had quieted. A thought struck her mind then, the most perfect of thoughts.

"Would I be correct in thinking, Lady Mary, that you would be most glad to spend more time here?" she questioned, "the position I offer would be subject to my husband's approval, but I see no reason for him to object."

"The position, Your Highness?" she replied politely, her hopes soring into the heavens. Anything Her Royal Highness offered, she would accept readily.

"Yes, I am lacking a lady-in-waiting," she explained, "Lady Jessica of Suffolk over stepped her boundaries. She entered my chamber unannounced, and in turn, interrupted something of a private nature," Lady Mary felt her face heating at the thought, "my offer is simply that you, Lady Mary, may be her replacement? Should you wish it?"

Lady Mary-Alice beamed at Her Royal Highness; she had not been expecting to be singled out for such an honourable role. Her mother would be delighted.

"I should be very glad to accept such a position, Your Highness," she replied happily, before the reality dawned, "but I fear I must consult with my mother and father before accepting your offer. I hope this is agreeable?"

The Princess Isabella frowned a moment, "You are out in society, are you not?" she questioned.

"Yes, Your Highness, I had my first season only last year," she replied, she had been fourteen the day of her first ball. Her father had been doubtful, but her mother had insisted. Cynthia had recently become engaged at the time, and with the attachment formed, The Duchess of Cornwall had seized the opportunity to put her youngest daughter on the market. Lady Mary-Alice had been most pleased, but she had been rather nervous; she had been the youngest woman there, and overlooked by all the men in attendance due to her age. She would not be considered a good wife, until she passed sixteen; she knew this, but it seemed her mother did not.

"Then I see no reason to consult your parents on the matter," The Princess Isabella told her, "if you are out in society then your parents have already decided you are ready to leave their home, and so you will, should you accept me now?"

Lady Mary-Alice liked Her Royal Highness' reasoning, and smiled happily, stating, "I suppose, My Lady that you are correct, and I should very much like to accept your offer."

The Princess of Wales smiled triumphantly, and linked her arm through her companions, much to Lady Mary-Alice's surprise. She was happy to accept the show of affection however, she had clearly done something to gain this remarkable woman's favour, and she was pleased beyond description about her improved situation. A glint of silver caught her attention; the light reflected off his brooch from the order of the garter, and she spotted them a small way ahead. The Princess Isabella noticed them also, and she sighed at the sight.

"It appears my husband cannot bear to part with me," she told her companion, "Since they confirmed my condition, he has scarcely left my side."

Lady Mary-Alice tore her gaze from the approaching form of Prince Jasper, and focused her mind on Her Royal Highness' words.

"Your condition, My Lady?" she asked gently.

The Princess Isabella did not fret on the fact that Lady Mary-Alice should not have been informed; she was to become one of her ladies-in-waiting and all members of the Royal household would be told shortly.

"Can I trust that this information will remain between us?" she requested of her companion. Lady Mary-Alice was quick to assure Her Royal Highness of her loyalty.

"Of course, I would not say a word," she told her truthfully.

"That is reassuring, Lady Mary, the reason I tell you this, is simply because you will be working rather closely with me, and knowledge on this subject would be to your advantage," she paused then, before admitting quietly, "I am in the family way." Lady Mary-Alice's gaze went straight to Her Royal Highness' corseted stomach.

"You understand why this cannot be made public, until it is certain?"

"Of course, My Lady," she responded, averting her gaze back towards Her Royal Highness, "I will not say a word."

The shadow of a tall man blocked the sunlight from their eyes. Lady Mary-Alice looked ahead, and found herself facing his chest. Where height was concerned, she was almost the size of a child, petite even for a young woman of her age. He towered above her, and she raised her gaze to meet his, forcing her eyes to rise above their natural height. The Princess Isabella retracted her arm from Lady Mary's and greeted her husband in an unusual manner.

"You should not have followed me," she told him, irritated. She had expected him to follow, however, and she was glad that he had brought his brother with him. Things were working out perfectly.

"I was concerned," Prince Edward muttered, almost embarrassed, "and my brother expressed a wish to speak with Lady Mary, I could not allow him to approach you both alone; it would be most inappropriate."

Both Lady Mary-Alice and the Prince Jasper were shocked at Prince Edward's statement. Prince Jasper could not believe his brother would be so honest in regards to their intentions. He had admitted his intentions to his brother only moments before; he regretted his own honesty now.

"As if I would allow my new lady-in-waiting to accompany him alone," the Princess of Wales stated, enjoying her husband and brother-in-law's confused expressions.

"So you have decided to replace Lady Jessica?" Prince Edward questioned his wife, "after what she witnessed, it is probably wise."

Prince Jasper smirked, his brother had informed both him and their father as to Lady Jessica's interruption, only two days prior, and in truth, he found the situation highly amusing. His sister-in-law's words came back to him then, and he looked towards Lady Mary-Alice; his sister-in-laws new lady-in-waiting. He caught Isabella's gaze, and he knew from what he saw in her expression as she returned his stare, that this was for his benefit and not her own. He would have to thank her for bringing Lady Mary-Alice to Buckingham on a permanent basis.

"Yes, I believe she will be the perfect replacement, and on further thought if Lady Mary is agreeable towards your request, Jasper," the Princess of Wales continued, "then I see no reason as to why you cannot converse, assuming myself and Edward chaperon your time together."

Lady Mary-Alice could not wrap her head around it all, the Prince jasper wished to speak with her, and the Princess of Wales had just referred to both of the Prince's by their first names. She did not feel high enough in rank to have been witness to such an exchange of names without the appropriate titles. It mattered little, however, as she was sure the Princess would refer to her husband by his first name often; she would simply have to grow accustomed to it, and at this moment in time, there were more pressing matters to be dealt with.

"What say you, Lady Mary, are you agreeable? Are you happy to speak with Prince Jasper on the basis that we accompany you? I shall not allow my ladies to be alone with eligible young men."

There was something about the way she said '_eligible'_, an emphasis that could not be ignored. Lady Mary felt her heart grow lighter at the statement, even though she knew the odds of their making a match to be very slim indeed. The Prince Jasper glanced down at her then; his expression turned the odds from very slim to moderate. She turned away, embarrassed by his attention, and instead gave her attention to the Princess Isabella.

"I am agreeable, Your Highness," she told her, suddenly overcome with shyness. She may have danced with him twice during the ball; but that did not make being in his presence any easier.

"Then its settled then," Her Royal Highness said happily, "if you both walk ahead, we shall follow you in a moment."

The Prince and Princess of Wales lingered where they stood, while Prince Jasper nervously offered his arm towards Lady Mary-Alice. She slipped her arm through his and allowed him to set the pace. They walked steadily towards the lake that marked the edge not saying a word. She could feel the tension he felt through his clothes, the stiffness of his arm and briskness of his walk both amounted to his nerves. She could not blame him, she herself was rather nervous to be in his presence once more. No form of conversation was started until they reached the lake. She stared out across the water, as they came to a halt beside the bank. She could handle the silence no longer,

"You wished to speak with me, Your Highness?" she questioned, once they had ceased momentarily. The words escaped her, and he instantly began to walk once again. They set off around the perimeter of the lake, and after a moment of silence contemplation, he replied.

"That I did, My Lady," was his simply reply. After a few minutes she grew impatient at his silence.

"Was there a particular topic that you wished to speak about, Your Highness?" she asked, looking straight ahead and keeping her thoughts and emotions in check. It would not do well to grow angry with the Prince, he was nervous, and this was the cause for his idiocy. It took him a moment to reply. In truth, he had no answer, but he knew he could not ignore her question.

"No, My Lady," he answered honestly, "I merely wished to spend a moment with you, without twenty other people spying on our every move."

His honestly caused her joy and upmost surprise.

"You wished to be alone with me?" she questioned, feeling almost daring, "how promising."

She believed his attentions to be promising; he was overjoyed at the idea. Her response was very more promising than his admission; he was delighted to hear of her own delight.

"Promising? In what way, may I ask?"

Lady Mary-Alice felt her face flood with heat; being daring never ceased to cause her embarrassment, but unfortunately she had little control over her own tongue, much to her mother's displeasure.

"It is promising, Your Highness, that you should wish to spend time with me," she admitted reluctantly, "when I wish for nothing more than your company."

He tried unsuccessfully to hide his happiness from her, but his smile could not be stopped. From the moment he had laid eyes on her, he had known she was the woman for him, and he was glad to hear her make such a statement. He would not admit the depth of his feelings to her, as it was still early, he did not know her character as well as he would like. He would spend however long it took to know her. He had no other goal.

"I must admit, I am glad you will be joining my family here at Buckingham. I would very like the opportunity to know you better," he stated boldly.

"and I you, Your Highness," she replied.

He came to the decision then, as they walked steadily around the embankment.

"If this request is too forward, by all means pretend I never spoke, but should you be agreeable, I would much prefer you call me Jasper," he suggested, hoping she would agree; he did not much like the use of formal titles were Lady Mary-Alice was concerned. The Lady Mary-Alice was surprised at his statement; she had not been expecting a request of that nature. Normally, only friends or family would refer to the Prince Jasper by his first name, she was flattered that he would consider allowing her to be one of the privileged few.

"Of course, it would be best if you did not refer to me by name in formal settings, but when we are alone, as we are now, you may do so," he amended his previous statement before she could reply. She smiled prettily at his statement, and replied promptly.

"I would not dare do such a thing, Your- Jasper," she replied, having to force her mind to go against all it had been taught. She thought on it then, she could hardly refer to him as Jasper if he would be referring to her as Lady Mary-Alice; such a dreadful waste of breath.

"If you are happy to do so," she swallowed before forcing out his name, "Jasper, it would make very happy indeed if you should call me Alice."

"Alice?" he questioned, "you do not like Mary?"

"Mary is my mother's name," she replied, "When I was younger, my papa would call me Alice to differentiate between the two Mary's, the name has stuck with me ever since childhood. You may call me Mary if you prefer it?" she offered, hoping he would object at the sight of her displeasure.

"Of course not, it is your name, you should be allowed to choose it," he told her, "besides, I rather like Alice; it suits you better."

She smiled, turning to look towards him, and noticed his happy expression also. His sheer honesty caused her heart to swell with hope and joy. She could not help but think, as they continued to stroll around the lake, that maybe she was wrong. Maybe there was a chance for them after all…

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**But then again, maybe not... who knows? **

**Thanks for reading :)**


	15. Tantrums and Tiffs

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or The Young Victoria.**

**Hello again :) I'm really surprising myself at my ability to update on time :) I've never been able to do it before, so go me! lol I need to say a massive thank you to everyone who has supported this story so far :D Betrothal is now the highest reviewed and alerted story that I've written, almost 300 reviews and over 500 alerts, I'm absolutely amazed so thank you :D **

**Anyway, this chapter is a bit shorter than the previous one, and we're going back to Bella and Edward again, it will be focused on them again for the next few chapters. Here's Chapter Fourteen...**

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Chapter Fourteen

Tantrums and Tiffs

_Mid June 1833_

It was more noticeable now, the slight swell of her stomach. They had commissioned a corset to support her for the next couple of months; she did not much like the contraption. It was uncomfortable, more so than her ordinary underwear and she was most unhappy at having to wear such a thing. She had no choice in the matter, however, in a few months' time she would not be able to wear the appropriate underclothes, and would be confined to her room once again, when this day arrived. She endured the new underwear that she was forced to don, and did not protest as her ladies dressed her. Lady Mary-Alice had given her opinion on outfits for her husband's birthday celebrations, and her taste was impeccable. Isabella enjoyed her company and on most occasions agreed with her ideas; like the dress she was currently being laced into. The colour was exceptional, a shimmering lilac fabric, with fine soft white lace trims around the sleeves. She was pleased with Lady Mary over this choice; she had always been partial to more fanciful shades.

Once her dress was laced, and her jewellery fastened, her ladies began the task of fixing her hair. Her hair was styled and a diamond tiara placed upon her head, and with its placing, she was proclaimed fit for her husband's ball. He was nineteen years old today, and they would be celebrating in style. The king would never allow for a simple celebration for any of his children. He had invited many people from various places in Europe. Her father had been invited to attend, but he had been unable to accept, for reason's she did not fully understand. She was disappointed at her father's rejection; she longed to see him, but she told herself that it was ok that he could not be there, even though it really was not. She was hurt by his absence from such a prestigious occasion, but she would put on a smile and pretend it did not matter. Her husband would need a happy wife tonight, and that was what she would be.

Edward was dreading the occasion and the attention it would force upon him. He would need her to be cheerful and supportive this evening, and she would do this for him without question. She was his wife, it was her propose to support her husband through every aspect of their life together, and that is what she did. An hour later, once she was deemed fit to be seem by her fellow nobles, her ladies accompanied her down to the ballroom. Her husband awaited her arrival nervously; he did not much like waiting, and she hoped she had not kept him long. He smiled as she appeared at his side; he was very glad to see her at last. He had not seen his wife since he had left her bed this morning. His father had wished to see him, and most of Prince Edward's birthday had been spent revising names and titles of members of the court for his job as host tonight. He would much rather have spent the day in his wife's company.

They were hosting the ball this evening, meaning the Prince and Princess of Wales would be expected to greet every noble man and woman that his father had invited. He was not looking forward to the task, and neither was she. She did not know many nobles of this court, and she was dreading having to greet them all by name. It seemed such an impossible feat! She had been delighted when Lady Mary-Alice had agreed to assist her; the younger woman had volunteered to stand behind her and inform her about each person in turn. The announcements would be made in such quick succession, she would be in great need of a reminder; of that she was certain.

"Happy Birthday Edward," she whispered as a way of greeting, and he grimaced at her words. Despite his displeasure, he thanked her and took her by the hand.

"Have you spent your day well?" she asked conversationally, as they began their slow walk towards the ballroom.

"Marginally," he replied, a reply which she knew to mean that he had been bored by his days activities, "How did you spend your day?"

"Productively," she told him, a reply which he knew to mean that she had done very little, "have you enjoyed your birthday?"

"I enjoyed the morning," he looked at her pointedly, and she knew exactly what part of his morning he had enjoyed; she blushed, "as for the rest of my day, I have very little to say on it."

Isabella was disheartened at his admission, spending his birthday with his father had clearly not been an eventful experience like she had been lead to believe.

"If I may, how did you spend your day?" she questioned, as they headed into the ballroom.

"With His Majesty," he replied simply

"I am aware as to who you spent your day with. That was not my question," she clarified, "what did you and your father accomplish today? Did you go riding? Did you take the dogs out for a hunt? Or any other masculine pursuit?"

Much to her surprise, her husband laughed heartily at the explanation of her thoughts.

"Why do you laugh? It is a simple question," she responded annoyed by his display of amusement. She could feel her irritation with him building, and she was at a loss for how to control her ever swaying mood. She attempted to rein in her increasing bad temper, and his quick apology helped immensely.

"I am sorry, but the idea of my father wishing to spend a day away from his duty is quite hilarious. My dear wife, we spent the day in his study, revising for my duty of host this evening," he explained, "believe me, it was dull and I shall warn you, I fear I have forgotten everything he told me."

"That is quite alright husband, do not worry on it. Lady Mary-Alice is to place herself behind me, and inform me of the approaching nobles," she told him, admitting her master plan.

"You sneaky woman," he commented, "It is a brilliant idea, however, and I applaud you for your genius."

It was not the Princess Isabella who was in need of applause, she thought, as the last stream of regal men and women entered the ballroom. Lady Mary-Alice was truly in need of praising, after her success this evening. The younger woman lent forward then, and whispered towards her.

"The Duke and Duchess of Norfolk," she informed her, "first names are Matthew and Mary, they have one son, recently married though it was all hushed up, a bit of scandal if you ask me, and two daughters, both the girls out in society. They also have a fondness for hounds, at last count they had seventeen dogs residing at their home."

Isabella was unsure at how to use this information, but she was happy regardless. Lady Mary-Alice knew everyone there was to know, and she was glad she had chosen the younger woman as her companion. Isabella may have placed her in her position to put her closer to Prince Jasper, but she had been unsure as to whether she would like the girl. She enjoyed Lady Mary's company, and when alone, they addressed each other without titles; as she allowed when alone Lady Weber. She had passed the honour onto Alice also.

"Lady Martha and Lady Margret of Norfolk," Lady Mary whispered, "the unmarried daughters of the Duke."

They greeted the couple and their daughters, and the Duke and Duchess of Norfolk moved into the room, their young prettily dressed daughters following behind them.

"Sir Michael of Norfolk and Lady Jessica of Norfolk," Lady Mary told the Princess, and Isabella was surprised to see her previous lady in waiting married so soon. She was truly shocked; she hadn't heard anything as their union.

"Hurried marriage, I wouldn't be surprised, My Lady, if it is announced that Lady Jessica is expecting rather soon."

Isabella tried hard to disguise her disapproval, and greeted the newlywed couple with politeness and smiles. The moved on also, after their quick meeting with the Prince and Princess of Wales.

The next guest into the room was a man that the Princess Isabella knew well; her father's great friend and ambassador of her country. Lady Mary's knowledge faltered as he approached, but the Princess did not require her wisdom with this dignitary. Her husband took his hand to shake, and greeted the French ambassador warily; she took note of his change in behaviour and began to wonder at it.

"_Monsieur Laurent,"_ she greeted kindly, and allowed him to lay an affectionate kiss upon her hand.

"_My dear child," _he replied, and then looked upon her again, noticing the changes to her person,_ "a child no longer, it seems, forgive me."_

"_Always," _she assured him, smiling happily at a familiar face from home, "_I must speak with you later, do not allow me to forget." _

The ambassador smiled and with one last glance at Prince Edward, he took his leave of the couple. She wished to ask after her husband's strange behaviour, but they did not have the time. Lady Mary-Alice's voice sounded at her shoulder, and she got on with the task at hand.

* * *

After many dances, conversations and more champagne than she probably should have drunk, she made her way over to the ambassador at long last. He had been standing alone for quite some time, and she sought him out while he was unaccompanied.

"_Monsieur Laurent_," she addressed her Papa's friend, and he looked around nervously before replying pleasantly.

"_My Lady, you wished to speak with me?" _he asked, appearing uncomfortable by her presence. She seemed not to notice.

"_That I did," _she confirmed, "_how is my Papa? He declined our invitation, and I wondered if his excuses were true."_

"_They are not, My Lady,_" he told her quickly, sweeping the room with worried eyes, "_the people close to you do not wish me to share the truth, but I must, My Lady._"

"_Monsieur?_" she questioned his words, frightened by his change in tone, "_what do you speak off? You must share your burden with me. Monsieur; I must know the things that trouble you." _

"_Your husband would rather I did not share_," he replied honestly, knowing he would tell her anyway. Her father was in danger and she had every right to know. The Princess was French born and bred, and her English husband could not sever her ties with her home country's troubles as easily as he thought.

"_My husband is not here_," she informed him of the obvious, "_is my Papa well_?"

"_No, My Lady, your father's life is threatened constantly,"_ He explained hurriedly, "_while you still inhabited the palace at Versailles there was unrest in France. Your father continually ignored the plight of his people, and failed to take notice of their suffering. There has been an uprising like no other, and your father's life is threatened daily by the rebels that make their unhappiness known. We have had heard rumours, My Lady-" _the French ambassador quieted then, as he noticed eyes upon them.

"_Princesse Isabelle, I do not think it wise that we converse further," _Laurent advised, "_His Royal Highness watches us_. _He did not wish for you to know. I am sure I shall not be welcome here again._ _I wish you luck, My Lady, and I hope with all my being that you will be safe and happy here."_

Before she could question him further, he swiftly turned and left. She was left confused and extremely hurt and frightened. Her father's life was threatened and her husband had failed to inform her of it. Her emotions; anger, worry and fear, swirled about in her mind and took hold of her composure. After a moment of standing alone, Lady Clearwater; her third lady in waiting, noticed her mistress. She approached her, and saw her inner turmoil as if it was written plainly across her brow.

"Are you well, My Lady?" she questioned, and Isabella shook her head honestly.

"I find myself feeling most ill, Lady Clearwater," she replied, feeling tears prick at the corners of her eyes, but refusing to cry in present company, "can you inform my husband that I have been taken ill, and have retired to my chamber."

"Of course, my lady," she responded appropriately, taking note of the Princess' distress, "shall I send for Lady Weber?"

Isabella nodded briskly, and looked towards the main entrance with horror; if she left via the entrance, everyone present would be witness to her departure. She did not wish to make a scene.

"There is a door along the back wall, behind the tapestry, if you are looking for a quick getaway," Lady Clearwater informed her, as if reading her mind, and pointed out which tapestry would allow her escape.

Lady Clearwater sent for Lady Weber, the moment the Princess had slipped behind the tapestry. Once Lady Weber had followed after the Princess of Wales, Lady Clearwater turned her attention onto the Prince, in normal circumstances she would think twice before addressing him in public settings, but she had a message to deliver and she would do as she was bid.

"Lady Clearwater," he said once he spotted her, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I have a message, Your Royal Highness," she told him, "The Princess Isabella has taken a turn, and she has retired for the evening, she asked me to inform you of this."

"Thank you, Lady Clearwater," he replied, his mind turning to worried thoughts. It had been a few days since sickness had last taken hold of her, and he could only assume that his wife's stomach had been the cause of departure. He tried not to worry after her, she would have her ladies to assist her and he was glad she did, as he would not be able to leave this ballroom until all his guests had left. At least she was being taken care of, that was all that mattered. He told himself that she was looked after, that he was not needed, and that he would attend to her later in the evening, which is exactly what he did.

* * *

After he had bid farewell to each of the unknown faces that had passed him, he retreated from the ballroom, now eager to see his wife. He hoped she was feeling better, and that her sickness was once again at bay. He reached her chamber swiftly, and knocked politely on her door.

"Enter," she called out her voice was harsh and raspy; he had never heard her voice sound so. He pushed on the door and cautiously entered his wife's chamber. She sat with her back to him and he became instantly anxious, as she was still dressed and if she had been ill, as he had been lead to believe, she would surely be in her night gown by now.

Her name formed on his tongue, and he was about to address her when her voice broke through the silence.

"How long have you known?" she enquired, and he could hear the anger bubbling underneath the surface. He did not realise the cause of her rage until she repeated her words in French.

"_How long have you known?" _she raged, rising from her perch on the bed. She turned swiftly, and he noticed her reddened and swollen eyes the moment she did. She clutched a handkerchief in her left hand, and he knew that she had been crying. She had not been ill, but something had distressed her.

It took him a moment, but as he thought on her words, he came to the conclusion that she must have conversed with the ambassador.

He sighed displeased, _"You spoke with Monsieur Laurent, I take it?" _he questioned, adapting to her choice of language.

"_How long have you known about my father's plight? How long have you known?" _she demanded, becoming angrier by the second. If he had not noticed that he anger was fuelled by hurt, he would have most likely shouted back, but he forced himself to remain calm. _Think of the child_, he told himself, before turning his attention back to his exasperated wife.

"_A while_," he replied simply, "_how much did the ambassador tell you? Did he mention that your father has known of his people's unhappiness for a very long time? And that he has done nothing to solve their problems?" _he asked her, and watched as she calmed slightly as she thought over his statement, "_I thought not."_

"_He told me enough," _she said quietly, though her anger far from dissipated, "_he informed me about your knowledge, and how you have kept this from me! I do not care who you are, he is still my father, and you had no right to keep such information from me_!"

"_I am your husband, it is my every right to keep things from you,"_ he told her honestly, he was good husband; he was merely trying to protect her and his unborn child from the stress too much knowledge would cause her.

"_How dare you!_" she roared, her temper well and truly blown at his statement, "_you horrible man! I cannot believe that I actually thought that you cared for me. It is obvious now that you do not care for me at all. How could you allow me to think that all was well? How could you allow me to act as if everything was happy and right with the world? My Papa's life has been threatened, and I am sure that mean's my little brother's life is in danger also! You truly vile man, I honestly believed you to be good and kind, but this act in itself has disproven my beliefs. How dare you!" _

The Prince Edward found himself angered by his wife tirade of insults upon him, but he forced himself to remain calm. He knew that she would not calm while in his presence, he knew what he had to do.

He sighed aggravated, but spoke calmly, reverting back to English, "Well if that is your opinion on the subject, I shall say no more. Now, I am leaving before you excite yourself further and harm the child."

Prince Edward turned away from his wife and walked calmly towards the door.

"Goodnight, Bella."

He wished her goodnight, and closed the door behind him. She was left stunned at his departure, and he was honestly surprised that she did not follow him out into the corridor.

He had wronged her greatly, but shouting at one another would not fix this situation. He would seek his parent's guidance, as to now to undo such a terrible crime against his wife. His father would not be pleased that Isabella knew; they had tried to keep her in the dark after news had arrived the previous month. It appeared they had failed. They had decided to inform her after the child's arrival, unless the situation worsened. He did not know how to handle this situation, he was a coward to walk away from her, but he could not see any other solution. As he walked, confused and thinking hard on how to fix things, down the corridor, he noticed the door to his father's study was ajar. The light from the room spilled out into the hallway, and Prince Edward found himself heading in this direction at the sight. He reached the door, and could hear the sound of his father's quill pen scribbling on parchment. He raised his hand, and gently tapped the door.

"Enter," His Majesty called out at the sound. The Prince Edward slipped inside the door; it appeared he would seek his father's insight sooner rather than later.

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**Oh dear...**

**I did warn you all that it wasn't going to always be happy, it would be a marriage if they didn't fight once in a while. France is not a happy country, their annoyed with me that I kept their monarchy going for longer than history states :P So you know, trouble is bound to happen lol Oh and just so everyone knows, I do not condone drinking while pregnant, but they didn't know how bad it was back then. **

**There was a quote from The Young Victoria in this chapter, how many of you spotted it? **

**Hope you enjoyed the chapter :) See you all next week...**


	16. A Time for Forgiveness

**Hi again :) I'm not sure how I managed to finish this chapter, all I know is that I'm really tired and my eyes hurt now for writing since early this morning lol I really should stop leaving writing till the last minute lol **

**Thank you all for the overwhelming support on the last chapter :D You guys are amazing! :D**

**I'm not sure about this chapter, as its mostly focused on Edward. I hope you guys like it though :) **

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Chapter Fifteen

A Time for Forgiveness

The light from the room spilled out into the hallway, and Prince Edward found himself heading in this direction at the sight. He reached the door, and could hear the sound of his father's quill pen scribbling on parchment. He raised his hand, and gently tapped the door.

"Enter," His Majesty called out at the sound. The Prince Edward slipped inside the door; it appeared he would seek his father's insight sooner rather than later.

"Edward?" his father enquired, rather surprised to see his son after he had been in such a hurry to visit his wife._ Oh to be young_, His Majesty thought, almost chuckling at his internal comment. He lowered his pen, and gave his son his attention. Something about his son's appearance in his study troubled him. Edward would not be here, unless something was wrong. He sent a silent pray to the heavens for the health of his first grandchild.

"Forgive the intrusion, father," he said to His Majesty, stepping further into the study, "but I am troubled. I am in need of advice, it seems."

His Majesty found himself surprised, his eyebrows rising into an expression that showed his feelings clearly. He sat back in his chair, and surveyed his son's posture. His back slumped slightly, and he absentmindedly ran his fingertips over a globe, causing the orb to move slightly in its stand.

"I can see that," His Majesty stated, "perhaps you should take a seat, and we will discuss the matter further?"

Prince Edward nodded, and did as he was bid, taking the offered armchair opposite his father.

"She knows," he replied simply, "the French ambassador decided to enlighten her."

His majesty was not pleased; his feelings showing clearly in his expression. He sighed, unhappily and replied to his son.

"That is most unfortunate," was His Majesty's reply "am I correct in thinking, that she is displeased by our decision?"

"She is that, and then some, father," Edward told His Majesty, "I left her tonight through fear of upsetting her further."

"A wise decision," His Majesty commented. He looked towards his son and wondered at the advice he sought. His Majesty could almost predict at the information his son was after. Prince Edward nodded in reply to his father's comment.

"I thought so," he said quietly, still taken aback by the strength of his wife's emotions this night. As his thoughts turned to Isabella, his questions began to circulate through his mind once again.

"My main concern now is her happiness," the Prince Edward stated, "I wish to correct this mistake, but I fear I do not know how."

His Majesty was unsure of how to assist his son, and he told him this directly.

"I cannot tell you how to make your wife happy, Edward," His Majesty said honestly, "she is your wife, not mine. Only you can know how to make her happy." The men fell into silence at His Majesty's reply. The King picked up his quill and began to finish his letter to King Charles. The poor man's life was crumbling at the seams. His own people were revolting against him; a reaction to his ignorance of their suffering. Charles had made his own fate, but Carlisle still found himself ready to offer his friend assistance in any way he could. If only he could think of how to do so? Edward had been walking among his thoughts for a while, before the idea came to him. Her words from before echoed through his mind; _My Papa's life has been threatened, and I am sure that mean's my little brother's life is in danger also! _ She was correct to worry after her family; they were indeed in great danger, but the Prince Edward could not offer assistance to the King. He could more than freely offer shelter to Prince Emmett, however. He looked up towards his father then, as the idea rotted itself into his brain.

His father's pen had stalled, and he appeared to be deep within his own thoughts. The Prince Edward did not wish to disturb him, but he needed to seek permission before going ahead with his most brilliant plan.

"Father?" he called hesitantly

His Majesty lifted his gaze from his letter, and focused expectantly on his son.

"I have thought on it, father, and an idea has taken hold of my thoughts," he explained, "I seek your permission in this matter."

"My permission?" His Majesty questioned curiously, "and what is this idea, may I ask?"

Edward told his father his idea, and His Majesty nodded at his proposal. He was surprised that his son's suggestion would please both his wife and himself. He had been seeking a way to assist the French king and inviting his son to court, where he would be safe from harm, was the most perfect idea. The young Prince Emmett was not the target of the French peoples rage, but he was likely to be harmed in the fight. The poor young boy did not deserve to be punished because of his father's troubles.

"That is a marvellous idea, son," His Majesty praised his son, "I am sure the knowledge of her brother's safety will reassure Isabella and hopefully calm her nerves. Though I must thank you, I myself was at a loss for how we could assist King Charles, but now, my son, you have granted me an answer. We will send for Prince Emmett, and bring him to court. He will be safe from harm within our walls, and I am sure that is all his father could ask of us."

The Prince Edward was pleased by his father's reaction, and smiled pleasantly that his mere thought would indeed occur; Prince Emmett would be invited to court, and that was all they could do. If they refused the invitation, then that would be that. Nothing more to be done, but at least they would try. He was sure she would be pleased by this decision.

"Thank you, father," Prince Edward thanked His Majesty, and excused himself from the study. As he reached the door, a thought stuck His Majesty's mind.

"Edward?" he called, to which his son turned in the door way.

"Yes, father?" he replied awaiting explanation.

"I have just recalled; we are attending the opera tomorrow night. Your mother's decision, I might add. Tell your wife that I do not wish for any public bickering, she may shout herself hoarse within the confines of this house, but she must leave your quarrels at the door; understood?"

The Prince Edward nodded; he had known of the opera, his father had mentioned it the previous day. Her Majesty had wished them all to attend together, and she had been granted her wish. Now they would attend at the Theatre Royal were society would be free to judge them. He had to admit; he was not looking forward to this in the least.

* * *

He slept till past noon the next day, and awake confused by his surroundings; it had been a while since he had last spent the night in his own bed. He would admit it to no one except himself, but he did not like waking alone; he missed her presence. He forced the thought from his mind, and rang the bell at his bedside. He leant back against the cushions and awaited his breakfast tray. As per, he did not wait long. Sir Cheney accompanied the young footman into the room, and began pulling clothes from the wardrobe. The Prince's valet assessed the garments that hung within the spacious cupboard, and made a decision prefect for the morning. His Royal Highness would change before their outing this evening and there was no sense dressing more finely than an ordinary day. He took the clothes from the wardrobe and laid them out along the ottoman; a crisp white shirt, silver embroidered waistcoat, dark jacket with velvet collar and cuffs, plain white cravat and fresh underclothes.

Prince Edward finished his breakfast without taking much notice of his valet. He placed his breakfast tray away from him, and rose from his bed. He went to the washroom, and saw the bath already drawn. He stripped himself of his nightshirt and settled himself into the iron tub. The water was warm and scented; he leant his head back against the tub and reflected on all that had occurred the previous night. His father was sure to have sent the letter to King Charles with the morning post, a fact the Prince was rather pleased about. He needed to regain his wife's favour; he was upset with himself over this matter, but he truly believed he had done everything in her best interest. They had been naïve to think, however, that she would remain ignorant of the goings on in France. He knew what he had to do, and it would cost all of his pride to do it. Even if he believed himself right, he would apologise to his wife for the sake of her wellbeing. It would not do to have her angered. His child needed her to be calm and happy in order to remain healthy, and Edward would do all he could to make her so.

He signalled for his valet then, and Sir Cheney reached for the jug of water beside him. The Prince rinsed his hair and washed, all the while formulating a plan. He would go to his wife's chambers, once dressed, and seek an end to their argument before their outing that evening. He hoped for an end to their silly spat, and saw no reason as to why there could not be a solution. The Prince rose out of the bath, and dried himself. He dressed with the assistance of his valet and left his chamber in search of his wife.

He assumed, as he walked towards her rooms, that she would be willing to meet with him and discuss the issues that had caused them to row. The Prince knocked lightly on her door, and awaited a response. Lady Mary-Alice greeted him; she smiled brilliantly and curtsied politely.

"Your Highness," she acknowledged but did not move to allow him entry.

"I wish to see my wife," he told her, expecting her to move aside. She did not however, and he grew impatient with the young lady rather quickly.

"In case you are unaware, my lady, I am the crowned Prince of England and you are standing in my way," he spoke plainly, and although Lady Mary-Alice worried at her own actions she stayed put and explained her motives for doing so.

"I am most sorry, Your Highness, but the Princess Isabella is resting. She had a troublesome morning, Your Highness. The child has caused her stomach to be most unsettled," Lady Mary-Alice explained truthfully. After their argument the previous night, the Princess Isabella had been most ill. She had called for her ladies in the dark of night, and they had not left her side since.

The Prince took note of her tone, and did not disbelieve her. He simply did not see how his wife's weak stomach prevented him from spending a few minutes in her presence.

"I fail to see how this prevents me from seeing my wife, how I suggest, Lady Mary that you move aside," he said his tone bordering on threatening. She hesitated and then followed his orders and moved out of the Prince's way. He stepped into the room, and his eyes searched for her. He understood why Lady Mary had protested the moment he saw her. She was sleeping deeply and peacefully under her covers. He quietly moved towards her and took in the sight of her sleeping form. Her chest rose and fell gently, and she clutched her covers to her chest and was curled up on her side. His annoyance at Lady Mary dissipated at the sight of his wife sleeping so peacefully. He would not disturb her. He quietly approached her bed and leant over her sleeping form. The Prince did not care that the other ladies in the room would witness his display; he pressed a kiss to her forehead and whispered an apology in her direction. She stirred and he moved away quietly. He headed for the door then, there was no sense in waiting for her to rise, if she was unwell, it could be hours before she woke. As he passed Lady Mary, he spoke quietly, through fear of waking his wife.

"If she is still unwell when she wakes, then she will be excused from the outing this evening."

Those were his parting words, and he left her chamber swiftly; hoping she would be well enough to attend, as he did not wish to face the general public alone.

* * *

The time came and he was dressed in his formal attire. He did not know whether to expect her, but since he had not been informed of her absence from their outing, he awaited her presence in the entrance hall. She appeared, dressed in a fine emerald gown. Her face was set in a stern expression; she was not pleased and he knew exactly why. The Prince hoped that she would keep her displeasure at home, and act accordingly while in the theatre. His Majesty would expect nothing less of his daughter in law. The Princess Isabella approached her husband silently, and took the arm he offered. She held onto him lightly and did not say a word. He sighed, but accepted her mood and escorted her to the carriage. His brother would ride with them to the theatre, and Prince Edward was not happy at having to share their privacy with his brother. Luckily, Prince Jasper was running behind, and was not yet in the carriage. The Prince Edward helped his wife into the carriage and took the seat beside her. Her gaze instantly went to the window, were she stared silently out at the courtyard.

The Prince Edward sighed, "For pity's sake smile woman," he said becoming irritated by her sour mood and her silence, "anyone would think we had quarrelled."

She did not move her gaze from the window, and told him sharply, "don't talk to me."

He sighed again, but did not reply or attempt conversation, and when his brother arrived at the carriage. He entered an awkward atmosphere; something his brother and his wife were well aware of. The three rode in silence to the Theatre Royal and disembarked from the carriage without speaking. The Prince offered his arm to his wife and she hesitated pulling slipping her arm through his. She did not wish to walk with him, and in truth she did not wish to be here at all. The Princess Isabella had been sorely tempted to foreign illness and remain abed for the evening, but she did not wish to lie to her husband; she did not wish to become a hypocrite and judge him for his lies, only to then lie herself. Granted, the seriousness of the lies was different entirely, but she did not think it matter much. The fact was the same, she would not lie like he had, and she would endure this outing. They would have time to speak plainly later in the evening.

The opera failed to capture his attention; the trilling voice of the lead made his head thump uncomfortably. He forced himself to pay attention, but his eyes wandered to his wife beside him. She watched the goings on intently and sang along quietly. He smiled at the sight of her happiness, and continued to focus on her, rather than the stage. Against his better judgement, he reached out and took hold of her hand. Her eyes dropped to her lap and she looked up fiercely. It was clear that she did not wish for him to touch her. She was still very angry, he could tell as much from her expression. He leant in towards her and spoke sincerely.

"I am so very sorry," he told her in a whisper, "it was wrong of me too-"

"Not here," she interrupted keeping her voice quiet. She saw where he was going, and wanted his apology more than anything else in the world today, but now was neither the time nor the place for it. Prince Edward nodded, he knew it was ridiculous to bring up such topics in such a place, but he could not help himself.

"May I speak with you later?" he asked keeping his voice low. Her expression softened slightly and she nodded. He made to move his hand from hers, but she gripped him tightly and held his hand within her grasp for the remainder of the show. He was not forgiven, but he knew with her reaction that it would not be long until their relationship was restored, or he hoped at least.

* * *

They retired together that night, and sat upon her bed, talking almost calmly, for quiet some time. Isabella sighed after a long decision about the state of her home country, and lay back against her covers.

"I just do not understand you," she stated honestly from where she lay, "why would you keep this from me?"

He turned his body and stared down at her. The swell of her stomach was noticeable now, as he placed his hand gently against her. He had thought it was obvious; he had only kept it from her to keep her happy. He did not wish to cause her distress in any way.

"I would have thought it obvious," he replied, withdrawing his hand and gazing down at her, "I did not wish to cause you distress, only I see how that by hiding this from you, I have only made things worse."

Isabella was silent for a moment and then sat herself back up. Her body was tired now, and she wished for nothing more than to sleep their troubles away. She reached for his hand, and replied to his statement.

"I would say that I understand, but I do not," she told him, "I do not understand why you would do such a thing, but I know that you are sorry for keeping this from me, and I know that you did it with the best of intentions. I do not forgive you yet, but you would have been a fool to expect me too."

She told him, and he appeared almost hurt by her reply. He nodded however, and thought on her words.

"I did not expect to be forgiven for quite some time, but I hope that you will find it on your heart to not send me away," he replied, hoping she would grant him his wish. Isabella found herself yawning, before she could reply, and much to his surprise, leant into his side; her eyelids closing against her will. With her sickness in the early hours of the morning, the opera and their lengthy conversation; she was well and truly spent. He held her to his side and awaited her reply.

Isabella sighed at his words, "I am tired," she stated, as if her tiredness was not clear. She moved to stand, irritated by his words. She should have known that he would only make such an effort to apologise in order to spend the night with her. She moved off the bed and began to prepare herself for sleep.

"As am I," he told her honestly, he was drained from the day's events and he knew that she was the same. He would not refuse her the kinds of attentions he had grown used to on a nightly basis, but if she tired and did not wish for him to do so, then he would accept this. He was content to merely sleep beside her.

"You are tired, are you? I know you wish to bed me, I am not naïve anymore, husband," she replied and he chuckled heartily.

"Yes, my darling wife, I do wish to take you to bed, but that is not the reason for my wanting to spend the night with you, but such ventures can wait until you are in a more favourable mood." He said much to her surprise, "I simply do not wish to leave your side tonight."

She looked at him accusingly, before coming to the conclusion that he did indeed speak truthfully.

"If you are to stay, you must make yourself useful," she ordered a smile appearing on her face, "now help me out of my dress."

The Prince Edward found himself smiling at her antics. Some of her playfulness seemed to have returned to her throughout the evening and he was glad to see it. There was a certain sadness lingering in her eyes, however, and he tried not to think on it too much. Her brother would hopefully arrive within the next few weeks, and the surprise of Prince Emmett's presence would, he hoped, raise her spirits further. He hated to see her upset, but she was coping well with the news, and he had informed her of everything he knew about France this evening. She was well informed now, and this small fact seemed to please her, even if the fact about her father caused her pain, it was better that she knew all that was happening. At least now, there were no secrets between them; except that of her brother's potential arrival and that was more a surprise than a secret.

Prince Edward helped his wife out of her gown and dressed himself for sleep. They lay silently beneath her sheets, and she allowed him to hold her. Secretly taking pleasure in his embrace; after yesterday, however, she would not admit to such a thing. She fell asleep within her husband's arms and forgot about her troubles temporally, as she fell into slumber.

* * *

**It was a bit choppy that chapter sorry guys :/ hopefully you liked it though :) **

**There is another quote in this chapter, lets see who can spot it...**

**Thank you all so much :) and I'll see you all again next week :) Abbie :) **


	17. The Dauphin

**Hi again! :) Am really surprised that I updated today, its been the week from hell so I've had no time to write, even though today is my 21st birthday (:D) I had a go at the chapter this morning, and although its a filler and mostly conversation I'd pretty happy with it :) **

**Thanks for all the reviews etc for this story so far! I'm completely blown away by it and am actually struggling to keep up with replying to you all :/ Sorry about this, but I do try to reply to all :) Anyway, I want birthday cake so I'm going to love you and leave you :) Hope you like it :) **

* * *

Chapter Sixteen

The Dauphin

_July 1833_

The letter of confirmation arrived only mere days before he did. The Prince of France was still a young boy in comparison to the two Princes of the English throne. He looked like his sister; the Prince Edward remarked upon meeting the young boy, he could see the resemblance between them almost instantly. He may have been young, but Prince Emmett was garbed like any young man befitting his station, and walked as though ready to take on the world. _He would be in need of this attitude_, Prince Edward thought as he studied the boy curiously, _his country is falling apart and so is his throne_. As the young boy approached an air of nervousness radiated from him. His posture appeared the exact opposite, however. His Majesty extended his hand out in greeting, and the young Prince shook and thanked the King of England for his generosity.

"Your Majesty, both myself and my father are grateful for your offer of sanctuary," he thanked honestly, the situation in France was deteriorating with each passing day. His Royal Highness the King of France was losing all control, but the proud man would never admit such, his son knew better, however. He made no comment on the subject, but knew His Majesty would bring up the topic sooner rather than later.

His Majesty was flattered by the young man's thanks, but did not believe that the boy's gratitude should be aimed at him. In truth, Prince Emmett should have been thanking his brother in law, but the young boy was unaware of this and from the expression on Prince Edward's face, he was pleased about this. The Crowned Prince of England had no desire to be openly thanked for his plan, after all there had been an ulterior motive for his actions; he had done it to please his wife. He thought about his wife then, thoughts of her clogging up his mind. Their relationship had been damaged by his secrecy and lies, and she had behaved differently towards him since the discovery. He hoped that her brother's arrival would spark some of her previous happiness, however, since he longed to see her smile.

Prince Edward had sent a message to his wife only a few moments ago, just after her brother had been escorted to his father's study. He hoped that she would join them soon; he wanted to see her happiness for himself, and he found himself staring avidly at the door in wait.

"Edward?" a voice called to him in just above a whisper. He recognised his brother's low tone and turned his head in his direction. Jasper smirked at the irritation that crossed his brother's face. Edward was so keen to see his wife that he was losing all focus on their father's conversation.

"Stop pining and pay attention," he told him quietly, "you're acting like a woman."

The Prince Edward was most insulted, but he attempted to refocus his mind nonetheless. His brother was correct to redirect his attention. This topic was of great interest; the state of his wife's country was dire at best. She would be devastated if anything happened to her father; he had determined as much by her heated words only a few weeks ago. Unfortunately, her father's life was indeed threatened by his people and unless he worked quickly; the outcome may not be a pleasant one.

"My father is in more trouble than he would care to admit, Your Majesty," the young Prince admitted quietly, "he does not share much with me, but I am not as blind as he cares to believe."

His Majesty's expression saddened subtly. To the untrained eye, his expression would have remained blank, as he always appeared in the present of nobles. His son's recognised the slight change and took note of their fathers worry. If the King of England was nervous for his friend safety across the water; then the situation was definitely something worth worrying over. Prince Edward tried not to think on it further, and hoped that his wife would not become wise to the seriousness of the situation. He became anxious towards her delicate condition; he did not wish to risk the health of his child over this. King Charles had brought this upon himself and although the Prince was sympathetic, he did not wish to lose his child or his wife over this.

"That is understandably," His Majesty replied honestly, he himself had hid all troubles from his boys when they had been young. Until Edward was fifteen, he had been informed of nothing, and Jasper was still not always told of every matter of the state. As for Rosalie, she would be kept away from every trouble, problems were not hers to handle. Her role was to prepare for her marriage, and that was all. Fortunately, she was more than content to fulfil this role. He wondered if she would be pleased with the young man that sat before him. It mattered not in the end, the contract would not be broken; unless their monarchy collapsed, however, then His Majesty would need to rethink and plan another match for his daughter. His daughter could never marry an exiled Prince, regardless of His Majesty friendship with his family. He would always be willingly to offer the boy sanctuary, but not the hand of his daughter should his titles be revoked.

A light knock on the door, drew the men's attention away from their conversation. His Majesty rose from his chair, he had an idea as to who was knocking on his door. Both his wife and daughter-in-law were absent from this meeting, and he should have known better to think that it would remain this way. He nodded towards his man servant, who had stood silently in the corner of the room while his master conversed, and the middle aged man reached for the handle. The moment the door opened, Prince Edward felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. She was so beautiful, regardless of her ever growing middle; he admired her so. It took a minute or two, but he eventually noticed his mother standing beside her. Her Majesty stepped forward into her husband's study; her eyes searching. The sight of her nephew, who had always resembled his mother, brought tears to her eyes. His birth may have brought about her sister's death, but she could not place blame on the child. Her elder sisters passing had been God's decision, and the Lord had chosen to take life from her sister in order to bring life to her nephew; a sacrifice any mother would gladly make.

Her Majesty smiled gently towards the young boy, he was not yet thirteen and yet he sat with the posture and dignity of a man. Her daughter was sure to be pleased with him, or at least she hoped that Rose would approve. She turned to her daughter-in-law then, and smiled knowingly. Her Majesty had wished to go to the boy, but she knew who her nephew would prefer to speak with. Isabella's eyes were fixed on her brother like she could not comprehend if who she saw was really there.

"_Emmett?" _she questioned confused by his appearance. Her Majesty could not understand it, had Edward not informed her of her brother's imminent arrival? She looked towards her son and enjoyed the sight of his joy. She could not understand why her eldest had hidden something so important from his wife, but she could only guess it had been to surprise her. She saw no reason to surprise the girl, but did not make comment and allowed her son to have his moment.

"_Were you expecting someone else?" _the young man replied to his sister, "_I shall leave if you like." _

Isabella approached her brother before replying, "_You shall do no such thing_."

She smiled brilliantly upon reaching him, and raised a hand to touch his cheek. Tears sprang to her eyes and she tried her level best not to let them fall in the company of so many.

"_You are truly here?"_ she questioned stunned by the sight of him, her brother smirked at his sisters ridiculous statement, but nodded all the same.

"_But Papa would never allow you to travel alone, surely? He would not even allow you to accompany us to England for my wedding!" _she stated, confused by his very presence. Her father was overprotective of his son, even more so than of her. Her father feared for Emmett's life over his own, the King of France had always kept his children contained, where illness and injury could not befall them.

Prince Emmett's face fell just slightly, but enough for her to take notice.

"_Papa was out of options on this occasion," _the young Prince admitted cryptically, avoiding her curious gaze. His eyes noticed something that he had been ignorant of, his sister appeared to be much bigger than the last time he had seen her. His brow furrowed, he was not completely idiotic, and he knew the cause of this sudden growth.

"_Out of options?"_ she repeated, drawing his attention back towards her face and ruining all plans to distract his sister by questioning her condition, "_how so?" _

The young Prince glanced around the room, surely her condition would change everything, how much was he allowed to disclose? He looked towards her husband, who observed their conversation from a distance. The Prince Edward reluctantly nodded once to Prince Emmett and he took the gesture as permission.

"_Father's control is slipping," to put it lightly, _he continued in his mind, "_When His Majesty suggested that I visit, father took the opportunity to remove me from the danger." _

Her face grew worried, and he thought for a moment that he had said too much. Bella was right to be anxious, however, and he knew that only too well.

"_I am glad to see you, Emmett, and I only wish you could have visited on happier terms. This is most upsetting, it does have to be said, but I am still so pleased to see your face. I have missed you, brother." _She embraced him then, and he fell into her arms only slightly embarrassed by the presence of so many older men. His Majesty came to a decision at the sight of their happiness. His daughter-in-law needed this moment, and he did not wish to intrude upon their reunion. They would have much to discuss; of that he was certain. After a moment of thought, he spoke up,

"I think it best that we all retreat for a moment, and allow you both some privacy," he told his family that were gathered there. They all looked towards His Majesty, surprised by his sudden words. Nevertheless, Her Majesty and Prince Jasper left the siblings to their reunion. Her Majesty paused in the doorway, and called for her son. Prince Edward did not wish to leave his wife, and fortunately for his mother, his wife was well aware of the reasons for his hesitation. Isabella turned towards her husband; the brilliant smile that he had grown accustomed to gracing her face. She reached for him, and he placed his hand in hers.

"I promise you, my darling, that I am well and that no harm will befall me or our child while you away from me," she told him quietly, "he cannot tell me anything that you have not already divulged."

Prince Edward smiled and placed a gently kiss upon his wife's forehead, not caring for one moment about how his actions would be considered inappropriate. Her face remained perfectly in place, wide and happy, as she usher her husband from the room.

Prince Emmett had averted his eyes to the display of gentle affection. It was clear that his sister's husband was indeed deserving off her. A fact he was glad to note. His father would have been pleased to see such a display of affection, regardless of its inappropriate nature. Once her husband had vacated the study, she turned to her brother, and he could not help but take notice of her condition once again. _Surely, father would have mentioned news of this nature? _Isabella noticed her brothers stare.

"_Is it that obvious?" _she commented lightly, placing a gentle hand on her expanding stomach, and moving to sit herself in one of the plush chairs.

"_You were certainly not so large when you left," _he told her, almost too honest,_ "was I supposed to remain ignorant until the child was born?" _

"_Large?" _she replied, irritated by her brothers statement. She was aware that she had grown significantly over the last month, but she did not think that she deserved to be called '_large'_. Her brother had the decency to look remorseful, but she knew her brother better than to think that he would correct his statement. She was surprised at first by his reply.

"_Maybe large was not the best adjective to describe your appearance, dearest sister," _he thought aloud, before a wicked grin took over his features, "_perhaps_ _enormous, massive or gigantic, would better suit. Which would you prefer?" _

The sound of her hand colliding with the side of her brother's head resounded throughout the study. It echoed off the walls, and he blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear the spots from his vision.

"_I will be honest with you, sister, I may have missed you greatly, but that I had not missed at all," _he told her, and laughed at the look of irritation on her face. She was infuriated by his words, but his smile was infectious and she found her sudden mood lightening at the sound of his laughter.

"_You are most unkind, brother," _she told him politely, "_Should you ever be blessed with children, you had best not say such horrible words to your own wife." _

Prince Emmett tensed at the thought, the idea that his future wife was inside Buckingham Palace somewhere, and he would no doubt meet her during his stay. He would be surprised if he did not. All he knew of his future wife was her name and age. Her Royal Highness, Rosalie, Princess Royal of England was thirteen years old, only a few months older than himself, and that was all the information he had been granted. In truth, their fathers had not wished them to meet until just before their wedding, much like his sister and her husband, but as he was lately coming to see; things did not always work out as you believed they would.

"_You have met Princess Rosalie, I take it?" _he asked, though already knowing her response. She had lived in England for nearly five months, and there was no way that his sister had not spent time in his future wife's presence. Isabella nodded, she had had met the Princess Rosalie on many occasions, since she dinned with the family at luncheon and dinner. Her first meeting with Princess Rosalie had not been a pleasant one, she knew that and had made a quick judgement of the girl based on her behaviour, but Rosalie was not as self-absorbed or discourteous as she seemed. True, she enjoyed being the centre of attention, revelled in the admiration of others and expressed her opinions freely, but there were not many young Princesses that did not act this way. Isabella did not hold her negative traits against her. The young Princess was beautiful; the only trouble was that she was well aware of it.

"_I have dined with her, but she is mostly kept away from court," _she explained, "_she has lessons with her governess and His Majesty does not believe that children should attend formal functions." _

"_He still views her as a child?" _he questioned, hoping that His Majesty did not view him as a child. His father did, however, and he knew better than to think that His Majesty's opinion would vary much from his own fathers. Isabella knew the real question behind his words, and studied him intently.

"_You are still young, Emmett," _she told him, "_do not be in any hurry to throw away your childhood." _

The sentimental look that filled her eyes told him not to question her, and he nodded briefly, before turning his attention back towards his future wife. He still knew very little about the girl.

"_Do not change the topic, sister_, _you have failed to report much on my future bride," _he commented in slight irritation, though making an effort not to allow his annoyance to show. He only wished to know a few basic positives about the young girl, why was the information so hard to gather? His sister laughed lightly at his words. Her brother never failed to make his thoughts known. He was correct; however, she had failed to inform him about his betrothed. Although, Isabella had very little to say on the subject, and did not see how she could assist him.

"_I know very little," _she replied honestly, "_what information do you require of me?" _

Her brother thought on her question for a moment; in all honestly, he was not sure the exact information that he craved. He just wished to know something more than he did, which was no difficult feat to achieve. He did not know what question to send in his sister's direction, and fell silent while he thought. She watched his mind working and could not help, but wish that she could assist him. However, he sought the information, and he must be the one to ask the questions.

"_What does she look like?" _he finally spoke, worried that his choice would seem vain. Isabella giggled, thinking back to the day she first met Edward, and she had naively believed that her betrothed was Prince Jasper, simply because she did not know even the most basic facts about him. She knew that such a simple question would grant her brother so much insight towards his future wife, but she knew that in only a few hours they would meet, and after his comments earlier, she was happy to allow him to meet his betrothed blind.

"_It is hard to say," _she told him, giving him nothing to go on. He saw her sly expression and knew she was deliberately keeping the information from him.

"_How can it be so?" _he questioned in annoyance, "_you have seen her, you have dined with the girl, why will you not tell me?" _

Isabella almost giggled at his actions, he was behaving like the child she knew him to be. He wanted information and she would not grant him it, therefore he was most irritated by her silence.

"_Why should I tell you?"_ she asked, rising from her perch in the armchair, "_you will meet her soon enough, brother, after all it is nearly time for luncheon." _

His face paled at the thought, but he rose from his chair and at his sisters ushering followed her out of the study, all the while mentally preparing himself for the meeting that was yet to come.

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**Yes I'm horrible! :D but the next chapter was actually going to skip ahead, which now its not, so that's always a good thing :) Hope you liked it :) **

**Thanks, Abbie :)**


	18. Whispered Conversations

**First, I have to say a massive thank you for all the reviews the last chapter got :D I never fail to be amazed at the reaction each new chapter gets :) Thank you all so much guys :)**

**Here's Chapter 17, hope you like ;) **

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Chapter Seventeen

Whispered Conversations

_July 1833 _

She tucked her arm inside his elbow and smiled gently up at him. Prince Edward sighed at the sight of her happiness. He did not think for one moment that his wife had forgiven him wholly, but he was delighted that her smile had returned and was simply glad that her behaviour towards him was almost returning to how it had been only a few weeks ago. His happiness showed clearly on his face, as he led her into the dining hall. His Majesty the King and Her Majesty the Queen had already seated themselves at the table, as was the norm in any function. In regards to rank, the Prince and Princess of Wales would seat themselves next. Isabella's brother, the Dauphin of France, seated himself on His Majesty's right, as was expected. He took his seat the moment she strode through the door. He was surprised at first; she truly looked her age, yet he could see her beauty regardless of her youth. Long blonde ringlets framed her pale face, and she stood with poise and walked with grace. Their eyes met from across the spacious room, but to his surprise, she scowled in his direction. He was left puzzled, as she lowered herself in the seat opposite him.

Prince Emmett busied himself with gulping down mouthfuls of water, and tried to keep his eyes away from the young Princess, who stared at him with such venom. The young prince was not the only person at the table who noticed the Princess Rosalie's unusual reaction to his presence. Prince Jasper questioning stare lingered upon his sister for several minutes, before she tilted her head towards him.

"What?" she hissed through her teeth, making it so that only her brother heard her.

He lowered his tone also when he replied, "Why are you scowling at the poor boy?"

She sighed at his words and picked up her glass.

"Why do you care?" she replied sharply, hiding the movement of her lips from behind her glass. It would not do for their mother or father to catch them whispering to one another.

"He's done nothing to you, sister," he told her, hoping she would listen to his wisdom just this one time, "you should at least give the boy a chance. He did not choose to marry you either."

"It is not the contract that concerns me," she stated simply, irritated by her brothers assumption. Her eyes glanced in Prince Emmett's direction. His eyes were downcast when she gazed over at him, and until His Majesty spoke to him, engaging him in conversation.

"Then please enlighten me as to the reason, as I am at a loss to understand why you would treat Prince Emmett in such harsh manner?" her brother enquired, and Princess Rosalie resisted the urge to scowl at her brother in way of reply. She felt like he was scolding her, and she saw no reason for him to do so. She had done nothing wrong; he had been judging her with his stare the moment she had stepped into the room. It was not a comfortable position to be placed in.

"He was judging me," she muttered her voice almost inaudible; "I did not like it."

Prince Jasper sighed and raised his glass to his lips, to sip at the burgundy coloured liquid within his glass. The wine tasted superb and he savoured the flavour, as he turned to reply to his young sister.

"You had best grow used to being judged, sister, from the moment you step out into society; every man and woman in the country will be judging you. From the way you behave to the style of your hair; they will make comment. It will do you good to have had this experience, Prince Emmett will be your husband one day and he will judge you most of all."

The Princess Rosalie felt herself growing ever so slightly nervous at her brother's honesty, not that she would ever admit too it. She thought on his words for some time, and had only just thought up a suitable reply when the first course arrived. As the bowls were placed before them, every member of the royal party focused their attention on the dish in front of them.

Except one, however, the Princess Isabella feigned interest in the soup. Her attention was as far from food as it had ever been before. His close proximity caused feelings to stir inside her, and every time he shifted in his seat, his leg would brush against her skirt or his arm would stroke against her bare flesh, sending delicious shivers through her body. It had been such a long time since she had allowed her husband to bed her. She had been quite cruel to him after their argument, but she had been truly hurt by the things he had hid from her. Refusing him had been the only thing she had to withhold; they only form of punishment she could think off. He had accepted her wishes and had never pushed her into changing her mind over the last fortnight. He had simply accepted her form of punishment and allowed her the right to refuse him. Tonight, however, she would certainly not be refusing him. Her thoughts drifted towards the possibilities, and she lost herself in her imagination for a time. His hand reached down between them, and he took her hand into his own beneath the table. She jumped at the contact, and turned towards him instantly. He appeared concerned, and she realised then that her musings had made her pause in movement and fall silent towards the current conversation.

She smiled shyly at her husband, and he viewed her curiously.

"Does the course displease you?" he questioned, since his wife had not yet touched her food. Isabella looked down towards her plate and delicately tasted the soup. Her husband sighed at her actions; if she did not wish to eat this particular meal then he would request something more to her taste. It was simple really; she did not have to stomach the soup, if she did not wish too.

"That was not an order to eat," Prince Edward told her, "I was merely concerned that you were not."

"It is divine," she replied, before taking another taste of the cooling soup, "I was merely thinking too hard on something that is all."

His curiosity spiked at her statement, and he found himself wanting to know how her thoughts could have distracted her so.

"And what thoughts, may I ask, captivated you so?" he enquired quietly, trying to keep his voice low. His wife blushed; her cheeks turning a remarkable shade of scarlet. He found himself burning with curiosity after such a simple reaction, but he was conscious of their surroundings, as was she. Her tone was low, almost a whisper, as she replied to his questioning.

"I believe you are well aware of my thoughts, husband, and if you are not," she sighed then and picked up her glass before taking a sip of her wine.

She lowered the glass again and met his gaze, "Well, then I dare say you will be enlightened should you visit me tonight," her statement was bold, but he was sure that he was the only person to have heard her words.

"Nothing will keep me from spending the night with you," he replied honestly, he wished for nothing more than to become reacquainted with his wife. Her words had caused a predictable reaction, but she seemed oblivious to his discomfort. He tried his upmost to think of anything that may rid him of the problem that had arisen, rather literally. They had only just finished the first course, meaning there would be another four courses to endure. He would have to sit through the rest of luncheon beside his wife, whose proximity did nothing but aid his problem, while his mind thought over all the things that he wished to do once they were alone. It was going to be a long afternoon.

* * *

She giggled to herself, as she closed the door behind her. Lady Weber noticed her smile the moment she returned to her bedroom. She had heard that Prince Emmett had been brought to England after the troubles that France was experiencing, but this smile was not the smile of a woman who was happy to see her brother. No, Isabella's smile that moment was something different entirely. There was something mischievous about her expression, and a light in her eyes that showed her playful side was working at full capacity.

"You seem happy, My Lady?" Lady Mary-Alice enquired, smiling herself at the sight of their mistress's happiness.

"That I am, Lady Mary," she replied, beaming the most radiant of smiles. Her happiness was infectious, and Lady Mary-Alice was ecstatic to see her mistress smile once again. It had been two long weeks of her misery and suffering, and all three of her ladies-maids had grown tired of her sour mood. She was entitled to feel the way she did, however, and they knew of the reasons for her unhappiness. Her feelings of sorrow appeared to be long since gone, as at this moment, she was giddy with her own joy.

"He will visit tonight," she stated, blushing delicately regardless of the fact that her husband visited her every night. Lady Weber, who was privy to most of the Princess's goings on, took her words to mean something else entirely. After one, albeit generous and heartfelt, gesture, Isabella had wholeheartedly forgiven her husband for his previous deception.

"He visits you every night, My Lady," Lady Mary-Alice replied, confused by her mistress's statement.

"He visits me, but it has been some time since we have truly shared the marriage bed," the Princess Isabella told her companion, delighting in the slight shock that flickered in her eyes, "tonight is the night, and I must be prepared for his attentions."

The Princess Isabella strode over to her vanity and settled herself before the mirror. She gazed at her reflection, surprised to see that her mood was visible for the entire world to see. Lady Weber followed her mistress and began taking apart her hairstyle, before unhooking the diamond necklace from around her neck. The three ladies made quick work of preparing their mistress for bed, and the moment she was ready for her husband, they departed, leaving her alone in the room. Isabella settled herself on the edge of her bed and waited. She did not wait long, however, and her husband slipped into her bedchamber. He was eager and he did not linger in the doorway, much to her delight. He approached her, and her heart beat erratically as he closed the gap between them. His hand reached out tentatively, the tips of his long fingers stroking her cheek; a loving gesture. She sighed at the feel of his skin on hers. The gesture was innocent and caring, but she knew where their night was headed and she struggled to contain herself. Desire built inside her and she found it most difficult to resist the urge to hurry him along. Edward ran his fingers along her jaw, his fingertips burning the skin they touched. He tilted her chin upwards, and she found herself staring into his heated gaze. He held her stare for a moment, before leaning down towards her slowly. Their lips brushed, and it took every ounce of her willpower not to pull him closer. As his lips teased her, her want for him began to win her internal battle. It had taken all of her strength to refuse him these last few weeks, and her body was delighted by her admission to him at last. It had been too long; her body's reaction to him told her so.

They had embraced many times over the last few weeks, but their skin had never been bared to one another. His hands fell at her hips; his fingers gripping her nightgown tightly in a fist. The urge to rip the offending garment from her person was overwhelming, but he resisted, how he did so he was unsure. She pulled him closer in one swift movement, her hands tangled in his hair and her body aligned with his. He felt the swell of her stomach, and a small part of him worried after their child. _Would this be harmful towards their child? _He hoped not, as he feared he could not stop himself this had been too long, and his body was overjoyed to be reunited with his wife. His heavy thoughts slowed their progress, and he heard Isabella huff in irritation at the lack of attention. Smirking at her annoyance, he forced himself to give his wife his full attention. He moved his hands from their resting place at her hip and he dragged her night gown up over her head. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her complete bare for his pleasure. She trembled, as the night air breezed over her bare skin, but she was soon distracted from the cold. He undressed within her view, and she watched with longing. Her desire for him built at the sight of his nakedness. The moment he stepped out his clothes, he reached for her again.

They fell onto her mattress, the atmosphere in the room turning heated at the change in dynamic. He hovered above her, his fingers exploring her skin and teasing her as they made their way slowly downwards. She could feel the dampness between her legs and knew his intentions before his hand touched her. Her breath caught as his finger slipped between her moist and overheated flesh. His intimate touch sent shivers running through her, and he enjoyed watching her unravel at his touch. He could feel her muscles tensing, and he smirked at his ability to cause her such pleasure. Her head fell back against the mattress, her hands clawing at the sheets as she prepared for the pleasure that she could feel building within her. His fingers retracted from her, and she could not help but feel irritated by his actions. Annoyance slowly filled her until he moved to lie above her. His arms snaked around her, and a small squeak of surprise escaped her as he changed their position.

She giggled, as she found herself across his lap. She looked down into his eyes, and held his gaze as he positioned himself at her entrance. He pushed into her slowly, gently, taking care not to rush this moment. They sighed, almost in time with one another, in relief at the sensation. It had most definitely been too long, and she swore to herself that she would never deny him again. She needed this intimacy more than she could ever have believed. He moved within her, bringing her out of her thoughts. She rocked her hips against him, and his breath caught at the sight of her. She was simply the most beautiful woman that he had ever seen, and the sight of her naked body rocking against him, only confirmed his thoughts. His hands found her hips and he gripped her tightly, helping to aid her movements. After only a few minutes, he felt himself tensing, his body preparing for release. The sound of her crying out in pleasure tipped him over the edge.

She collapsed down onto his chest, thoroughly exhausted by their activities. She was surprised to fell such tiredness. During their honeymoon, they had been able to continue all through the night. She assumed the child within her belly was the cause of her tiredness, but did not think on it further. His arms slowly came around her and he held her to his chest, running his fingertips gently along the ridges of her spine. After weeks of fear, worry and hurt, she fell asleep in his embrace feeling utterly content with the world.

* * *

After only a few hours of rest, a hand lightly shaking her shoulder woke her in the dead of night. She turned in her sleep and reached out for her husband; assuming that he was the one who attempted to wake her, but he was gone.

"_Bella, you must come now_," Lady Weber's voice sounded in the surrounding darkness, and as her eyes took their time to adjust to the lack of light, a lit candle appeared within her view. Lady Mary-Alice stood a few steps back from Lady Weber and she held the candle up to allow them some light during their exchange of words.

"_What has happened? Is something wrong?_" she grumbled, rubbing at her tired eyes inelegantly. In the dim light, she could just make out the expression on Lady Weber's face and her heart sank into her stomach with fear.

"_My Lady, I cannot say here," _Lady Weber replied, "_His Majesty is waiting for you in the drawing room." _

Isabella threw the covers off her naked body, and reached for nightgown, that had been discarded at the foot of her bed. She hurriedly moved to stand, yanked her nightgown down to cover her nakedness, and closed the distance between herself and Lady Weber.

"_Angela,"_ she whispered urgently, reaching out and gripping her friends hand tightly, "_Is he alright? Is Edward well?" _she asked, worried by his absence from her bed. Lady Weber nodded, "_His Royal Highness is well, My Lady."_

Lady Weber stared at her friend, unable to comprehend the news that had reached England only shortly after they had retried to their chambers. He was gone, and there was nothing to be done to change it.

"_My Lady, I am so sorry," _she told her, tears beginning to fall from her eyes before she could stop them. The sight of the moisture glistening in her friend's eyes caused Isabella's mood to turn from worry to outright fear.

"_Angela, I demand you tell me this moment what has happened,_" she spoke with authority, causing her old friend and faithful companion to meet her gaze. Tears slipped free as she admitted the knowledge that she had been told not to utter.

"_It's your father, My Lady," _she admitted nearly sobbing at the pain she was about to cause her mistress, "_I am sorry, My Lady, he's gone. Your father, he's dead."_

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**I hadn't planned for that ending, but some reason it just seemed right. Sorry for yet another horrible ending, but I think you all knew this was coming at some point. **

**Thanks for reading :) See you next week :) **


	19. In the Still of Night

**Hiya :) Sorry I'm a week behind :/ Life caught up with me unfortunately! But its the Summer Holidays now which means I have 6 weeks off work :D I really do have the best job :D**

**Should warn you all, I have literally just finished this, but was so excited that I get to update that I haven't bothered reading through it lol Oh well, one day I'll go back and sort out all the mistakes lol**

**Anyway, here's Chapter 18...**

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Chapter Eighteen

In the Still of Night

Numb; as if all emotion had been drained from her very soul, was now she felt as her ladies led her from her chamber. No tears fell, she would have to feel to cry, and at this moment, she felt nothing. Nothing at all. Lady Mary-Alice saw her ladies distress even if the young Princess would not admit to any pain; her agony was clear for all to see. The young lady reached out her hand, and grasped her mistress' hand in her own. She had probably over stepped some invisible boundary, but she did not care if she had. She cared for Isabella greatly and did not like to see the young Princess in such pain. Mary-Alice was no stranger to the pain of losing a loved one, but both her parents were alive and well. She may well understand the feeling of grief, but her own losses could not compare to that of losing a beloved parent. Not to mention the repercussions that Isabella's father, the late King Charles of France, would have upon her home country. She did not dare think on it.

Unfortunately, the grim topic was the subject of her friend's thoughts. Isabella focused her mind on devising plans; plans for her brother and plans for the future of the French monarchy. Both were deep thoughts that kept her from thinking of her father. Her beloved Papa, who was no longer a part of this world – she squashed that terrible thought like an unsightly insect. Her brother was her main concern, at only twelve; he was far too young to rule a country. She did not trust anyone of her father's associates enough to agree to a regency. No, a regency was not an option in this instance, but what other option did they have? There was only one other heir to their throne, and the thought alone was simply preposterous. She was not a contended in this mental battle. When she thought on it, she could only draw up reasons as to why she would be unsuccessful, and plenty of reasons as to why she could not travel to France. She was with child, and given her husband's protective nature; he would never allow her to agree to such a dangerous and precarious venture. She was no longer Isabella, Crowned Princess of France; she was Isabella, Princess of Wales. She was married, and dispute her station; her decisions were no longer her own.

She felt Lady Mary-Alice's hand slip into her hand, and she glanced up at the younger woman beside her. Mary-Alice smiled, a sad smile, and squeezed her friends hand in reassurance. She was not alone, and she hoped that that thought alone would keep her afloat during the storm that was soon to rage around her. Isabella gently returned her friend's kindness by squeezing her hand in return. Only moments ago, she had felt so numb, so completely lost within her own world, and admittedly, she did not feel much different, but she felt _something_ and that was all she needed.

The three ladies reached His Majesty's study, after their silent stroll through the eerie palace. Lady Weber reached up to tap lightly upon the wood of the door. A sharp reply caused her to flinch, but she responded His Majesty's request and entered the study, leading her mistress behind her. Lady Mary-Alice tried not to blush as she spotted the various members of her Royal family in different degrees of underdress; especially the men, she tried her upmost not to meet their eyes. She helped her mistress in an armchair, and squeezed her hand once more, before realising Isabella to her husband's care. Prince Edward came to stand behind his wife in an instant, taking a protective position behind her chair. He placed his hand reassuringly on her shoulder; the most caring display that he could offer given their surroundings. She shut her eyes tight, and tried not to think of the reason that they were here, and not in her bed, as they had been only mere hours before.

His Majesty shooed the two ladies from the room, and turned to face his daughter-in-law, trying to find the words needed to inform her of her father's passing. He knew that such news would break her heart and crush her spirit, in one deadly blow. The King of England had done many great things and many terrible things; but nothing in his life so far could ever have prepared him for what he must do tonight. He looked at his daughter-in-law, and saw something he was not expecting to see; _she knew. _It was obvious in her very demeanour that Isabella knew the exact reason for her visit. How she knew, however, was of little importance. It would still be for the best if he relayed all information that had been given to him in the early hours of this morning. The beautiful young woman who sat before him, hair dishevelled by sleep, the swell of her growing abdomen more pronounced without her correct underwear to conceal it; was not the same woman that he had dined with this afternoon, she was changed somehow. His Majesty thought with a heavy heart that it would be some time before he saw that carefree young lady again, after tonight.

He settled himself into the chair beside her. She begrudgingly tore her gaze from the carpeted floor. Her once bright eyes shone with unshed tears, but she met his gaze regardless of her sorrow and forced herself to listen. She knew what he would say, but she needed to hear it all the same.

"Of all the things I would wish to say, you must believe me, that this is not one of them," His Majesty told her honestly, he wished to say a great deal to the woman who sat before him. He wished to thank her for her happiness, her wonderful spirit and her overwhelming influence on his eldest son. The young Prince was indeed a changed man since their marriage, and His Majesty could never thank her enough for all she had done for their family.

A lone tear slipped free as she blinked slowly, and her husband noticed her pain from where he stood behind her. His grip on her shoulder tightened briefly, as he tried to remind her that he was here, despite all the terrible things that surrounded her; he would always be there for her. He hoped that she knew that. His Majesty proceeded in an agonisingly slow pace. She tired of his silence, and grew angry at his almost refusal to admit the truth to her.

"I know," she whispered, "I know about my father."

The simple statement alone caused her once peacefully numb mind to be flooded with images, thoughts and pleasant memories of her doting and loving father. He may have been flawed, in many ways, but he was perfect to her and she had loved him wholeheartedly. The mere thought that he was no longer alive caused an agonising pain to strike her heart. She could no longer fight the feeling, tears spilled over and she sobbed at the idea of her father passing. Surely, he could not be gone? Surely, God was not that cruel?

"I do not know how you came to know of your father's tragic passing," His Majesty confirmed, with his words, that actually God was indeed _that cruel. _"But I must ask you, my poor child, how much do you know?"

Before she could respond, her husband's voice sounded from behind her.

"This is unnecessary, father," he insisted, a hint of worry shaking his otherwise sturdy voice, "she does not need to know the details. Surely, her father's passing alone is enough of shock for tonight."

His Majesty sighed tiredly; he could do without his son's input in this already difficult situation.

"Do you believe that I would subject to her to such gruesome news, if I did not believe that knowledge was in her best interest? Forgive me, Son, but the court will hear of the happenings in France within a few days, and I would rather that she be informed here, before others can inform her in less than appropriate surroundings."

His Majesty had a valid point, but that did not mean that Prince Edward had to like his justification for hurting his precious wife further. King Charles had been subjected to the worst kind of punishment, and his delicate wife did not need to hear the details. The details of such a crime were best only shared between men. Woman, no matter how strong, should never be subjected to knowledge of such a gruesome nature.

"Please ease my suffering, Your Majesty," the Princess' timid voice filled the quiet of the room, "please share with me the information that you possess, I promise you, I am strong enough to handle whatever news you send my way."

She lied with surprising ease, but she had to know. Her husband had attempted to keep secrets from her before, and that he had not turned out for the best. She wished to know, everything and anything that involved her father and his last hours on God's earth.

A noise across the room caught her attention then, and she finally took notice of her brother. She had been so thoroughly dazed that she had almost missed his presence completely; how very impolite of her. His skin was drained of colour and he appeared as if he may empty his stomach onto His Majesty's plush carpet. She hoped not, it was a rather lovely carpet. She caught her brother's eye, and something he saw in her eyes willed him to stand.

"Please don't tell her," he begged, rising from his chair. His eyes were fearful and he looked shocked at his own protest, as if he could not believe his own daring.

His Majesty turned himself to face the young boy, and felt sympathy fill him. Such a young boy should never have been subjected to the things that Prince Emmett had been subjected too; he was barely out of the nursery after all. Like his sister, however, Prince Emmett needed to know every detail, regardless of how much the truth frightened him or caused him pain. It was for the best.

"She has to know," His Majesty told the young boy simply.

Before any other member of his family, immediate or extended, could protest, His Majesty relayed the information of his friend's passing in detail. He watched as the young woman before him crumbled and felt guilt seeping into his veins and filling him with remorse. Maybe he should not have told her, after all?

_The crowd jeered at the sight of their 'leader'. They enjoyed the sight of him belittled and stripped of his crown. He was their King no longer, they no longer wished to be ruled by a power hungry, self-centred and frugal Royal. They had watched their families; their sons, daughters, wives and husbands, perish due to his lack input in their lives. He took every penny that they worked for and allowed them to starve; to die from disease and a continuously empty stomach. They accepted his rule no longer; his word was no longer law. They had stormed his palace, gutted his home, and taken him captive. King Charles would live no longer, and upon his death, they would rejoice. No happier day would dawn in France, than the day that King Charles was put to death. _

_They had lost many to reach this part of their story, but their sacrifices had not been in vain. Once the King was dead, the deaths of their men, women, and children would be avenged. The storming of the palace in Versailles had cost the most lives, but with the action they had achieved the ultimate goal. They had him cornered, they had him trapped and he was theirs to do with as they pleased. The crowd rejoiced at the sight of him, bloodied and beaten, being dragged from his beautiful palace and through his perfectly kept gardens. They revelled in the sight of his misery. After all the pain and suffering he had allowed his people to live through; he more than deserved this fate. _

_King Charles did not fight, his head lolled on his shoulders and his feet dragged across the pebbles. He was in no fit state to fight; they had made sure of that. The idea of their King being unconscious during his own execution was not something that made them happy. They wished to see the fear in his eyes, they wished to see him fight as he realised what was coming. So they held him captive, until he came too. His once fine features were distorted from the beating he had received, his nose was very obviously broken, and his own blood smeared across his face. The moment he was conscious, the crowds regrouped and gathered around the platform. Today was the day. Today was the day that King Charles died. _

_Two burly peasant men escorted him to the stand. He knew what these people had come to witness. He had known that he would die, the moment the rebels had gotten past his extensive guard. He had accepted his fate, and he knew what the crowd wished to see. They wished to see him fight, to see him beg for his life, but he was born royal and most of all, he was French. He would never behave in such a deplorable way. If he was to die, then he would die with dignity. He looked out at the crowd, his face impassive and unfeeling. He would not give them the satisfaction. _

_He sank to his knees before the guillotine, and willed his body not to tremble. It would be over swiftly, and soon he would be with his beloved wife Renee. His final thoughts turned towards their two children, and he could only hope, as the blade was released, that they would live happy and full lives. He could wish for nothing more._

_The crowd cheered with overwhelming enthusiasm, as the King's head was severed for his body. _

Her screams pierced through the still night air, her husband was startled awake for the fourth time that week.

"Bella," he whispered, in what he hoped was a soothing voice. He reached out for her, but she fought him off. Still lost in her terrible dreams, she believed him to be an attacker. He had grown used to this reaction, but her response to his touch did nothing to dispel his need to comfort her.

"Ssh, Bella," he attempted, managing to capture her in his embrace, "it's alright. I assure you, my sweetheart, nothing can hurt you here."

He held her, as her body trembled. Nightmares had plagued her every night since his father had informed her of father's gruesome passing. His Majesty had been wrong to tell her those things. They all knew that now, but it was far too late for regret. All they could do now was support her and keep her fighting for herself and for the child she carried.

She jerked away from him, trying to force herself out of his embrace, but he would not allow it. He held her tighter as she persistently struggled against him. She did not wish to be comforted; she wished to be left to the torture of her nightmares. He could not, on clear conscious, allow his wife to battle her demons alone. There was too much at stake; too much that he could lose. He pulled her flush against his chest, before brushing her sweat drenched hair from her brow.

"It's alright, my dearest," he whispered, hoping she would hear him through her nightmares, "I promise you. I am here, and nothing can hurt you, whilst I am here."

She quieted somewhat, and his tense muscles relaxed slightly. He held her until she calmed, before loosening his grip on her, once she appeared to have fallen back into an almost peaceful slumber. He did not release her entirely, however, and kept his arms securely around her midsection. As he held her, he began to hope, as he did every night. He hoped, against all hope, that this would be the last time; that this nightmare would be her last, although he knew with almost complete certainty, that this was only the beginning.

* * *

**:( Sorry to depress you all once again, I'm apparently in such a good mood lately lol **

**Oh and sorry that this chapter was a little short, it just found a natural end point and I went with it :)**

**Hope you liked it :)**

**Thanks, Abbie :)**


	20. A Ray of Hope

**Hiya :) Sorry, I'm a day late for updating... but I finished the chapter and believe me, thats all that matters! lol This chapter was an absolute *swearword* to finish! It did not want to be written, but muhaha I win! :D Anyway, before I get negative on it, here's chapter 19...**

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Chapter Nineteen

A Ray of Hope

_Two months later…_

_September 1833_

"Good morning, Your Highness," a voice by her ear brought her out of her thoughts. Startled, she hurriedly gazed around the room until her eyes landed on Lady Clearwater. The eldest of her ladies-maids placed a breakfast tray before her. She eyed the food briefly, but did not feel much like eating.

"My Lady, you must eat your breakfast or I shall fetch His Royal Highness and he shall make you," Lady Clearwater demanded, growing tired of the Princess' refusal to fulfil her most basic of needs. Her child needed her to be strong, but it seemed she could not find it in herself to fight the pain that controlled her. Only her husband seemed to be able to pull the Princess from the prison of her own sorrow.

It had been months since the news of her father's death had reached England, but Isabella was still almost catatonic with her own grief. The poor child had not been granted time to grieve, however. Of course, she had cried long into the night, when the news reached her, but there had been decisions to be made almost instantly. Her brother was next in the line to the French throne, but legally he was too young to rule, and given the state of their country a regency would not welcomed. The young Prince had been granted no other option, but to renounce his claim to the throne. It seemed like the world she had known, prior to marriage, was slowly crumbling around her. With her father's death, the people of France had gotten exactly what they had fought for; the French monarchy had fallen.

The thought made her stomach turn. The dynasty her ancestors had built and fought for was gone in the blink of an eye. The palace her great-grandfather had commissioned in Versailles had been ransacked over the past months. The thought caused her heart to ache painfully in her chest. She reached out for her fork and began picking absentmindedly at her breakfast. Lady Clearwater stood by her side, until every piece of her breakfast had been consumed.

"I know you must hate us, My Lady," Lady Clearwater spoke quietly, "but we do this for your own good. You wish for your child to be healthy, do you not?"

Isabella nodded once, and turned to stare at her reflection in the mirror. Her skin was paler than she had ever seen it before with dark grey-purple marks ringing her eyes. Her brown eyes had lost all their sparkle, and her once shiny and gleaming chestnut hair was now dull and lifeless, which hung in a lose braid over her left shoulder. She was still dressed only in her nightdress, and should have been dressed an hour ago. A light knocking on her door alerted her to this fact; a welcome reminder that she had arranged with Lady Mary-Alice the night before.

_Oh lord, _she thought frantically, as she remembered the reasons behind that sound. She had forgotten, completely and utterly forgotten. She had promised to accompany her husband to court, as she would very soon no longer be able to do so. At five months, she would very soon be confined to her chambers until the birth of her first child. He would no longer be able to visit her during those few months; at least not during the evening hours. Doctors feared that intercourse would harm the child and Edward would never compromise the health of their first born, hence why he was using all his power to keep his child healthy. Isabella had only refused nourishment once before he noticed and commanded that she never deny his child food again. The scent of food did not trigger any unwanted reactions with stomach any longer but rather caused her insides cry out for sustenance. It was not an easy impulse to ignore, but some small part of her refused to listen. The part of her that wished for nothing more than crawl into her bed draw the curtains and remain there until the never ending storm of grief had passed.

Retreating to her bed was not an option however; she sighed and rose up out of her chair.

"Will you assist me?" she called out to Lady Clearwater. The older lady silently folded the gold embroidered peach blanket and set it down onto the pile.

"Of course, My Lady," she replied swiftly, and approached her mistress, who now stood before her mirror, a very slight smile upon her face as her eyes fell upon her midsection. The swell of her child was obvious to all now, and she laid a hand upon her stomach affectionately before allowing her ladies maid to help her dress. She changed out of her nightgown and which was soon replaced by a clean slip and pantaloons. Next went on her stockings, petticoat and a modified corset to accommodate her condition; a contraption she very much loathed. Her options regarding dress were not vast, she had five mourning dresses and only two were suitable for an appearance at court. She hurriedly choose the closest dress too her, and allowed Lady Clearwater to hoist the gown up over her head.

The dress was simple, but elegant. It had a higher neckline than she would normally wear; which was made of intricately patterned black lace and sleeves hemmed in the same fabric, which reached her wrists. Lady Mary had designed this gown, Isabella remembered then, only the pattern she had drawn up had been originally designed in pale blue and lilac, and with a much shorted neckline. Isabella sighed at the colour; it did nothing to improve her already low mood, but tried not to think on it. The session at court would only last a few hours and then she would be free to return to her chamber and to her thoughts. The Princess and her ladies maid did not converse as Lady Clearwater fixed Isabella's hair into a fashionable style. They instead remained completely silent, as the older lady weaved the young Princess's hair into tiny braids that she then wound together into a bun. Three tiny ringlets on either side framed her face, and once a jewellery made of onyx and ruby gemstones hung around her neck and from her lobes, she appeared almost the same woman she had been only a couple of months ago. The Princess looked at the clock on her mantle and almost instantly began to fret over her lateness. She would have hurried to the hall, but her condition forbid such behaviour. Isabella thanked her ladies maid and exited her chamber swiftly but carefully.

Prince Edward sighed and tried not to dwell on his wife's delayed arrival. He knew she would come fore she had said she would accompany him today and she had never broken her word yet. Something must have delayed her, and he could only hope and pray that it was not something worth worrying about. She would arrive shortly, he told himself. Almost as if she could hear his thoughts, she strode across the hallway above him and descended the staircase cautiously. Her fingers gripped the banister lightly as she approached him and she only released her hold on the craved golden rail, once she had reached the very last step. He turned to the sound of her approach and smiled slightly at the sight of her. Even in black her beauty shone through her misery, and he could still see the woman he'd married all those months ago under the subtle changes. She would be whole again; he would make sure of it.

"I am most sorry," she whispered softly once she reached him. He waved off her apology, and offered her his arm.

"Do not think on it," he replied, "I am not offended by your lateness, and I doubt very much that my father will be either."

Isabella sighed; relieved, and slipped her arm obediently through his. As he led her into the hall, she noticed it. He wore a thin black satin band around his arm; a symbol of his own mourning. Her heart lightened somewhat at the sight of it, though she was unsure why it did so. He had no obligation to grieve after his father-in-law and yet he chose to don a black band in her father's honour. She was grateful for his support, and she could not fault him on the lengths to which he would go, had gone for that matter, to ease her suffering and support her through such a low point in her life. She could never thank her husband enough for all he had done for her.

A most peculiar feeling stilled her feet, and her husband halted with his wife. She unwound her arm from his and spread her palm flat upon her stomach. It had moved; the child had moved inside her and the feeling had thoroughly shocked her. The child continued to move beneath her hand, though she could not feel it's movements through her palm, due to the many layers of clothing she wore.

"What is wrong? Are you hurt? Is it the child?" her husband worriedly bombarded her with frantic questions. She ignored his fear and panic and found herself giggling at the sensation of the child's movements.

"It's moving," she told him beaming; all feelings of sorrow vacating her mind in an instant. His face changed from panic to pride, but he resisted the urge to reach out and touch her stomach also.

"How wonderful," he stated, the picture of happiness. He was so pleased that their child was doing well. Given the events of the current time, he was surprised, but immensely grateful that their child was still surviving.

As soon as the movement had started, it stopped. The Princess of Wales sighed, feeling all a flutter at the sudden excitement, and slowly moved her hand away from her belly. Pleased as she was to feel her child's activity from within her womb; her dark feeling returned swiftly. She longed for light, for happiness and smiles, but her mind seemed content to pull her under into the shadows of sorrow and despair.

"It stopped," she muttered quietly, sighing and slotting her arm though her husband's once again. Edward noticed the change in her as clearly as she did herself. He turned towards her then and called to her.

"Bella?" he whispered gently. She raised her head, tilting her chin upwards to meet his stare in way of reply.

"You will not always feel this way," he assured her, "it will hurt for some time, but you must grieve and once you have, once you have accepted your father's passing and made peace with it, you will feel much happier. Our child will arrive in only a couple of months and that will give you cause to smile, I am sure."

He hoped so at least. The idea of a child frightened him and caused him great joy all at once. The feelings conflicted, but he understood them. His father had reassured him in the earlier weeks that it was right to feel apprehensive. He was going to be a father at nineteen years of age, and although stranger things had happened, he was right to be fearful. Thankfully, he would have very little input into the child's care, if he wished it that way, anyway. He doubted that he would be able to take a back step, like his father and grandfather before him; however, he cared deeply for his wife and knew that he already cared for his child in equal measure. He was unsure whether he would be able to have very little say in his child's life. He tried to force his mind onto lighter topics, however, as their lateness dawned on him. With all the excitement, he had almost forgotten entirely that they were expected in the hall, this very moment.

Today, his father intended to offer the exiled Prince a permanent place within his court. This being the reason he had requested his wife's company this afternoon. It would make her happy to witness it; he was almost certain of it. He smiled to himself and finally led his wife into the hall. He had become so used to his introduction that he did not take much notice of the doorman, as they strode into the room. His father, the King, did however, and he glanced up expectantly at the announcement. It most unlike his son to be late; and he was not best pleased with his son. His Majesty turned towards the door as his son and his wife stepped into the room. The King's feelings of anger vanished at the sight of her and her delicate smile; she had not made many appearances in court since her father's death, due to the heavy burden of grief. The sight of her up and about helped to ease his guilt somewhat, and he smiled politely in the young couple's direction.

Isabella's eyes found her brothers then and they shared a significant look. Her brother appeared older than his years; the last few weeks had aged him. He was still very much a child in her eyes, however, and she resisted the urge to approach him, smooth down his unruly curls and plant an affectionate kiss upon his brow. Her husband steered her in the opposite direction to her brother, and placed her in a seat beside his mother. Her Majesty beamed at her daughter-in-law and reached to take her hand. She squeezed the younger woman's hand in a gesture of silent reassurance, before swiftly releasing her grip and placing her hand back into her lap. The small gesture lightened Isabella's heart slightly and she smiled to herself. She truly had the most loving of families; she was sure there were plenty of Royals across Europe that would never show such kindness towards another human being, if they did not gain something from the action. Her husband lowered himself into the seat beside her, distracting her from her thoughts. She glanced towards him and smiled shyly, before the unexpected movement of her child inside her diverted her attention from the court. She smiled to herself, her palm placed flat against her abdomen in an attempt to feel the child's stirrings.

His Majesty rose from his chair, once his son and his wife were settled into their seats. He had gathered his fellow nobles together for a most important of reasons after all.

"Greetings, my dear friends and most trusted members of my council, I have gathered you all here today for one specific reason. We are not here to dance or dine, my friends, we are assembled here today to offer our support towards our friends and relations overseas. To remember those who have fallen," he paused, his thoughts turning towards his friend momentarily, "and to help those who are left behind."

A quiet murmur of agreement passed through the gathered nobles, though His Majesty was uncertain as to whether many agreed wholly with his ideas; he knew they would not be foolish enough to oppose him. The late King of France had been a dear friend to His Majesty and a powerful ally for their country; it had been a sorry day in his household when news of Charles's passing had reached Buckingham. His Majesty refocused his thoughts onto the task at hand and continued.

"We are all privy to the facts behind the late King Charles' demise," His Majesty stated, "with his father's tragic passing, Prince Emmett, who is thankfully safe and sound and with us all today, has been forced to relinquish his claim to his father's throne."

Isabella looked sadly across the room at her brother at his mention. It had not been an easy decision, but the Princess was sure they had followed the only option available to them. It was not safe in France, and Isabella and His Majesty would never allow the young Prince to return alone. Returning to France, especially given his position, would mean almost certain death, or at the very least imprisonment, for her younger brother.

"Today, my friends and favoured members of my privy council, I wish for you to witness the revival of a forgotten title," His Majesty continued gaining the Princess of Wales' attention, "although, this is not a formal ceremony, as I believe the time to be inappropriate given the state of mourning among members of my family. A ceremony will follow; I give my word on that, but from this day, Prince Emmett will now, should he so wish it, be known as the Duke of Edinburgh."

Isabella found herself overwhelmed with emotion at His Majesty's display of kindness. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she blinked furiously to rid them from her vision. Bestowing her brother with such a title meant an estate and lands with it. Such generosity she had never been witness too before, and she could not help, but feel almost happy; her mood lightened greatly by this wonderful turn of events. If her brother had lands and a title, then she was left with one less burden resting upon her shoulders. She met her brother's gaze across the hall, and saw the relief that he felt as clear as the morning sky in his features. The corners of her mouth rose into a radiant expression. All was not well within her little family, but she knew in that moment, as her husband reached across to take her hand into his own and her brother's future was secured, that it would not remain bleak forevermore. A ray of hope shone before her and she could almost see a hand reaching out to free her from the darkness. She reached out for that hand and grasped it firmly. She was not healed by any means, but she would be, one day, she could see that now and that was all that mattered.

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**Hope you liked it :) **

**I'm thinking at the moment that the next chapter will be Alice and Jasper focused again, as I think we all need a break from mourning. **

**Thanks for reading :) **

**Abbie :)**


	21. Hide and Seek

**Hello! :D Finally managed to shake off the writers block! :D Sorry if I haven't replied to your reviews, I have never had this kind of response for a fan-fiction before and I'm finding it difficult to reply to you all :/ I apologise for that and I will try to keep up with this chapter :) Hope you like it :)**

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Chapter Twenty

Hide and Seek

_Mid-September 1833_

The light in the room made her golden gown glitter. She had captured his heart many moons ago, but that did not dispel his need for her when his eyes landed upon her. So beautiful that day was she that she held the attention of nearly every gentleman in the room. Their eyes upon her caused him a great deal emotion; anger, jealously, and an overwhelming desire to protect what was his. He had approached her in the corridor earlier that morn and had secured her hand for many dances already. As the orchestra began their set, the young prince swallowed his nerves and tried not to take notice of the hundreds of people gathered for his sister-in-law's birthday. Their eyes followed him as he crossed the room towards her. Lady Mary raised her head and smiled shyly as she too noticed his approach. Looking up timidly, her heart beat increased with his proximity. She could hear her breathing becoming uneven and tried to gain control over herself.

"Lady Mary?" his voice floated towards her and the corners of her mouth turned up at the sound.

"Your Highness," she breathed, overwhelmed by his presence.

They had spent much time together over the last few months and had grown rather fond of each other. The Prince knew in his heart that she was the woman he would marry; he could not picture himself with any other lady. He had plans to speak with her father soon. He did not know the Duke of Cornwall personally, but he would never dream of asking for Alice's hand without her father's permission. Of course, he would have to speak with his own father first, but he saw no reason to be denied this. There was nothing to delay their union, however, he knew that his mother would prefer they marry in spring; as his brother had, but he saw no reason to wait. He longed for Alice to be his bride. He smiled at the thought and offered her his arm. She dipped her head shyly, though he could see her radiant smile. She enjoyed his company as much as he enjoyed hers. He led his lady to the dance floor and took great pride in showing off his partner to all that were gathered.

One person in particular took notice of the pair that evening. Her Majesty was greatly troubled when she sought out her husband later that evening. It was not that she did not approve of her son's choice of lady; it was the nature of their relationship that concerned.

"We should have informed him," she spoke, pacing the length of their bedroom rug, "both Rosalie and Edward were told, why didn't we warn him, Carlisle?"

His Majesty sighed and studied his wife's agitated posture from where he lay upon their bed.

"It was not final," he stated in way of reply, "a male heir could have been born and the marriage contract would have been voided. Maria is only fourteen after all, my dear, she could be granted a brother still."

Her Majesty looked toward her husband with a look that showed her disbelief clearly. The current Queen of Spain was fortunate to have been blessed with one child, her daughter; Maria the Infanta of Spain, would be Queen. There were no other heirs to their throne.

"That is about as likely as us being blessed with another twenty," she smirked, though she did feel for the woman. She had lost children and she knew the deep disappointment and sorrow that came with miscarriage and stillborn children.

"Carlisle, I saw the way he looked at her tonight; we all did. He will not part with her without a fight," Her Majesty explained, and her husband's face formed a carefully composed mask.

"If Jasper does not marry Maria, he will ruin our alliance with Spain," His Majesty's face was calm as he thought over the problem before them, "he could cause a war by refusing her hand. Our son is not so selfish as to cause our nations to battle because of a silly little girl."

Her Majesty frowned, "be fair, Carlisle, Alice knew nothing of this, nor did Jasper for that matter! Lord, I feel so horrid."

Deflated, she moved towards her husband's bed and climbed in beside him.

"What a wretched mess," she muttered, as she laid her head upon pillow.

Silence fell for a moment or two, until a thought came to her; there was every chance that her son would refuse Maria, what would become of him if he should do just that?

"Will you punish him?" she questioned her eyes sad as she peeked up at her husband. He sighed again, his negative thoughts causing a deep sense of unhappiness within him. He did not wish to lose his son, but he knew what he had to do, if Jasper should be foolish enough to break his marriage contract. His Majesty pulled his wife into his embrace and her head fell gently against his chest.

"I will have no choice. I am so sorry, my darling, I did not wish to cause harm to our son, but should he refuse the contract, he will be stripped of his titles and he will be exiled. If Lady Mary should follow, her title will also be taken from her."

Horrified, she looked up towards her husband, "must it really be that severe?"

She knew in her heart that he son was no longer a child, but worried like a mother should. The city around their palace was not such a lovely place. It was dirty and filled with people who would kill for their next meal. Her Majesty would have to speak to her son, she could not allow for him or Lady Mary to be exiled to such a place. It was not safe for them in any other world, but the world they were born into.

"I am afraid so, my dear. If Eleazar thinks that we have allowed our son to go unpunished, should Jasper break the contract then he would have cause to start a war. I will not allow it; we have worked hard for this alliance and I will not allow our son to ruin all our hard work."

If she had been alone, she would have cried, but with her husband beside her, she would not allow herself to do so. She made herself comfortable beside Carlisle and closed her eyes to the world; she would not allow herself to think any more on this tonight. In the morn, she would request that their son be told, so that he may make his decision. All she could do was hope that he would make the right one.

_One week later…_

Giggling like the child she was, she dashed behind a shrub. She knew that he'd find her. Her infernal laughter always gave away her permission. He would find her in a heartbeat. His feet crunched on the gravel and her heart beat speed up. He was not far. She breathed quietly through her nose and listened for every sound, every clue as to his proximity. He almost reached her hiding place when he turned on his heel and strode off in the other direction. Confused, she peeked out for behind the shrub. She saw no sign of him on the path. _Odd_, she thought, creeping out from her hiding place. Before she could stand, however, an arm wrapped around her waist and a hand clamped down over her mouth.

Her heart hammered for a very different reason. Fear shot through her veins and she instantly struggled against the hold on her. She had been foolish to play such a ridiculous game, but it had seemed like such a marvellous idea at the time.

"Hush, darling, I will never hurt you," his breath washed over her flesh with each word. Her shoulders relaxed and he removed the hand from her mouth.

"What on earth are you playing at?" she whispered, feeling both excited and terrified to be in such an intimate position with him. Her back was pressed against his chest and his large hand was spread across her stomach.

"If we stand, they will see us and I really do not wish for this to be seen," he stated quietly, bring many questions to his companions mind. The most obvious question formed on her tongue, but died in her throat, as he placed himself in front of her. Her heart beat so rapidly that she feared it would break free of its cage. His eyes held hers for an everlasting moment and her breath caught, as he lowered his gaze to her lips. She was still a little unsure as to his intention, right up until the moment that he pressed his lips against her own. Her eyes fell closed at the sensation that his touch invoked.

"Your Highness?" a voice called from across the garden and the moment was broken. He unwillingly pulled himself away from her, sighing he pressed his forehead against hers and whispered down towards her.

"The sooner you are my wife, the better I shall feel." He stood then, leaving her dazed and unable to comprehend his words. He offered her his hand and she rose, glad of the assistance. It was only as he held out his arm, that she found her voice.

"Excuse me, if I misheard you, Your Highness-"

"Jasper."

"Sorry. Jasper, but did you say that I shall be your wife?" she questioned, her mind going into a state of utter confusion and sheer happiness. If they were to marry she would be Princess Mary-Alice, Duchess of York. Her title mattered not towards her happiness, but it was sure to irritate her sister.

"That I did, Alice," he replied keeping his voice low, "should you wish it, I would marry you as soon as was appropriate."

"Should I wish it? I wish for nothing more than to be your wife," she told him, not knowing whether to regret her honestly or to be thrilled that she had spoken the truth.

His brilliant smile was all the reply that she needed. Her fingers gripped his jacket tightly as she thought over the last few minutes. Would this really happen? Would they truly be husband and wife? Would they stand before the priest at Westminster Abbey, as his brother had, and commit themselves to one another, until death parted them? The idea was more than appealing. She had told him her true feeling on the subject, she genuinely wished for nothing more than to be his wife, to spend the rest of her life beside him, to share his bed and have his children. Nothing would please her more. Her thoughts of a new frock for the wedding and how she wished it to look, were forced from her mind, as they approached the voice that had called for the Prince.

His father's valet stood at the end of the path. He watched them approach, and as his eyes fell upon Lady Mary they filled with sorrow. In her state of utter happiness, she did not notice the man's change in attitude.

"Your father wishes to see you, Your Highness," he stated simply, and Prince Jasper nodded at the message.

"Please tell my father that I shall escort Lady Mary inside and then I shall join him in his study," he replied swiftly. His mind briefly wondered towards the potential topics of discussion, but he came up blank.

"Quite right, sir," His father's valet replied, before dashing off to deliver the message to his father.

"I shall escort you back to my sister-in-law," he told her, saddened that their adventure in the gardens had been so cruelly interrupted. He led her back into the palace, and regretfully released her into the Princess Isabella's care. His sister by marriage looked upon him strangely, but he did not think on it. His mind turned towards the reason; there was always a reason where his father was concerned. As he approached the study he began to worry, but his father had no reason to be against his relationship with Alice. It was this fact, and this fact alone, that eased his mind. He reached his father's studied and gently wrapped his knuckles against the door. Instead the normal, 'enter', the door immediately swung open at his knock. It was clear that they had been waiting for his arrival. His noticed his mother's worry immediately. As much as his mother prided herself on her ability to hide her emotions, she had failed this day. Her fear and worry was plain for all to see.

"Mama," he instantly questioned, "what is wrong? What troubles you?"

His mother glanced up and shook her head once. She wrung her handkerchief nervously, but said nothing. His father cleared his throat loudly, forcing his son to meet his gaze. His Majesty did not look pleased.

"Do you mind explaining, son, what on earth you were doing with Lady Mary-Alice in the gardens this morning?" his lips pressed together tightly, a clear sign of his annoyance.

Prince Jasper swallowed, he knew they had not acted their best this morn, but he could not help himself around her.

"Hide and seek, father," he muttered, mortified at having to state it out loud. His father sighed and leaned back into his chair.

"Hide and seek?" he questioned, to which his youngest son nodded once, "how old are you, Jasper?"

He had foreseen this question the moment his father had asked after their activities. It was true, he was far too old to be playing childish games, but it had seemed like such a wonderful idea at the time.

"Seventeen," he replied quickly, raising his head to meet his father's irritated stare.

"And she is?"

"Fifteen, father."

"I see."

His father continued to stare coldly across the room at him. He was displeased with his son's behaviour. It was most out of character for his shy and obedient son to behave in such a way. Unable to withstand his father's stare for long, Prince Jasper immediately jumped to his lady's defence.

"Do not blame her, father, this was my doing," he stated quickly, "neither me nor her shall behave this way again."

His father met his gaze and told him simply, "No, you shall not. Jasper, I think it wise that you distance yourself from this girl."

His father's words stopped his heart, the mere idea of distancing himself from Alice, too painful to comprehend. He shook his head slowly, until he found his voice.

"I cannot do that, father," was his timid reply.

The room fell silent for a long awkward moment. In the entirety of his reign, not one person, family or otherwise, had refused to act as His Majesty directed.

He sighed heavily, "You seem to misunderstand me. This is not a request. You will distance yourself from Lady Mary, or I will be forced to remove her from Buckingham."

"Father, I beg you! Please do not force me away from her! I wish to marry her," he pleaded, and his father's expression softened for a fraction of a second, before hardening once again.

"You cannot marry her, Jasper," his father told him, "you are promised to another."

All thought vacated his mind in that moment, and for a few seconds he simply stood before his parents, unable to respond in any way.

"I knew we should have told him sooner," He vaguely heard his mother whisper, "we should have told long ago."

His father ignored her and instead fixed his eyes on his son. Prince Jasper was beginning to regain some control over his thoughts and managed to ask the simple question.

"To whom exactly, am I promised?"

"Maria, the Infanta of Spain," His Majesty told his son at last. The contract may not have been finalised for long, but His Majesty had planned this marriage since Rosalie's had been voided. He needed his children in powerful positions, and with France lost to rebels, he had no other choice but to seek Spain as an ally.

"The daughter of the Emperor?" he questioned, trying to piece together the facts. In complete honesty, it mattered not who his father had promised his hand too, there was only woman that would be his wife.

"Yes," His Majesty replied, pleased by his son's curiosity, "she will be the ruler of Spain once her father passes on. God willingly, however, that will not be for some time."

Prince Jasper retreated back into his thoughts. He saw the appeal now; the reason behind his father's decision. His father wanted nothing more than to have strong alliances throughout Europe. The young Prince, however, had no desire to sit on the throne of Spain. He was not an ambitious man and had no wish to marry for power or titles. He wanted Alice, and only her.

"And if I refuse?"

His mother caught his gaze then and if he did not feel so strongly about this, he would have likely changed his mind to please his mother. He hated to hurt her so. His Majesty lifted his stern gaze to hold his son's stare. They shared a significant look and the young Prince knew that his father would not take refusal lightly. His father had a low tolerance for disloyalty.

"If you refuse, you will lose everything that I can take from you. Your title, income and housing will be revoked. You will be exiled from our home and our court."

After a long moment, Prince Jasper nodded once. He knew the price he had to pay, but it was not his punishment that concerned him.

"And Lady Mary?"

"If she should follow you, she will receive the same treatment as yourself. I advise you to think hard on your decision. Do not act rashly, son, neither myself nor your mother wishes to lose you, but we shall, should you make the wrong choice."

His eyes fell to the floor. He could not believe the outcome of this meeting, he was betrothed to the heiress of the Spanish throne and his parents had only now thought to enlighten him. He had never met Maria, but he knew she was young, younger than Alice. The marriage would be incredibly advantageous and should they be blessed with children, they would have a throne to inherit and would want for nothing. But if he refused, he would lose everything. He would have no title, no rank in society, and his friends within the court would be forced to shun him at his father's command. How could he ask for Alice's hand when he would have nothing to offer her? If he chose her, then they would lose everything. He could see no alternative, however, he could not imagine his future without her as his wife, but he could not doom her to a life in exile. He would have to speak with Alice immediately; they had much to discuss.

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**So what happens next? I'll leave you to draw your own conclusions... until next time! **

**Thanks for reading :)**

**P.S. if anyone knows of someone willing to Beta this story, please send them in my direction as its been put to my attention just how many mistakes are in these chapters :/ sorry if they annoy you, I tend to write really late at night so I don't always notice them lol Thanks again :)**


	22. Correspondence

**Hi all :) This new chapter is a little different than the rest and for those of you that don't like the style - well its highly likely to be a one of a kind sort of chapter :), however it seemed like a good way to get through all of Alice and Jasper's story and the things that are happening in Bella's little world too. Thank you for your support so far! **

**Beta: ****Lfcpam - Thanks for all your help too :) **

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Chapter Twenty-One

Correspondence

If in October you do marry, love will come but riches tarry.

_25th September 1833_

_My Dearest Friend,_

_ I hope this letter finds both you and your child well and merry. I write only to assure you of my safety and that of your brother in laws. I am certain that you have been made aware of the situation between Jasper and myself. I know that His Majesty the King is extremely displeased by our choice to flee but I must say he left us with little choice. If he should discover how I came to deliver this letter to your room, please offer my apologies to the girl and send the maid in my direction, if he should chose to punish her as he has us. _

_ I hope that you, My Lady, understand the reason behind our leaving. I love Jasper very much and wish to be his wife regardless of his rank in society. Life will not be simple for us now but it will surely be a happy life after so much sorrow. We have little money but I have sold two of my nicest frocks and a few jewel, and Jasper has parted with many things to pay for our travel and accommodations. We will survive; please do not fret on that particular subject. _

_ I cannot tell you our whereabouts, for reasons I am sure you are aware off. Although I know that His Majesty will not send others to search for us, he is still capable of closing doors to us, because of this I hope that you will not share this letter with others. I understand however, if you feel that you must. I will never judge you for your choices, as I hope you do not judge me. _

_ I wish you all the best, My Lady and hope that we may still remain friends regardless of the growing distance between us. I hope very much to hear from you but I understand your reasons if you should chose to ignore my letter._

_All the best,_

_Alice_

At the arrival of the letter the Princess Isabella had been anxious to hear from her friend. Now she was simply eager to reply. She had felt nothing but guilt in regards to her brother-in-laws situation. She had encouraged their relationship and allowed them to fall for one another. Her husband and her ladies had tried to convince her that she was not to blame for this outcome. They had not been aware of Jasper's betrothal either, had they been, they would have never encouraged his relationship with Alice. In fact, had Jasper himself known then they were certain, he would never have pursued her. _Such sad times_, she thought as she placed the letter in her drawer. Her friend had made a difficult yet admirable choice and she was not being rewarded for it either. The Princess of Wales took a crisp piece of writing paper from her drawer and dipped her quill in preparation for the task.

_29th September 1833_

_Dearest Alice,_

_ I am very glad you thought to write to me. I was very anxious to hear from you after your midnight getaway. I still cannot believe you did such a thing! You silly love stuck girl! But it is not my place to chastise you. I am sure you will have many people around you to do just that. You are right to believe that your life shall not be easy. Many doors will be closed to you and much to my displeasure I doubt that I shall see much of you in the future. His Majesty has forbidden us all from assisting either of you however, he made no mention of writing to you. I see no reason as to why we cannot have this. I miss you greatly and notice your absence frequently. Angela is not the companion she once was; she is distracted and frets easily over the slightest problem, especially with my condition. I am afraid she will be overbearing once I am confined for the final months and it is not long now until I shall be bound to my bed. I do not look forward to that day. If I am honest, Alice, I am afraid of being confined. Edward will not be allowed to visit me once I am and I cannot imagine spending a night without him. I am sure you shall understand this once you are married. You must tell me everything about your days and nights! I look forward to the news of your union and I expect to be informed as soon as you say I do. I wish I could be there for you on your day but I know that you understand why this cannot be. Let me know once you are settled._

_Best wishes,_

_Isabella_

_13rd October 1833_

_Dear Isabella,_

_ I am officially married! Wedded and very much bedded! I am over-joyed to be his wife. He is such a wonderful man! You were quite right, I understand your longing for your husband now. I could not imagine having to spend so much time apart from Jasper and I feel for you in this time without him. The thought alone causes my heart to ache. On a happier note however we are settled now and have a town house in Bath. We only have two staff however, a cook; Mrs Cope and a young maid called Kate. They are both such lovely women and I am very glad to have them. I do not know how I would survive without their assistance. We have been fortunate to secure ourselves with a residence and staff. This would not have been possible if Jasper had not secured a position. I must not talk as to his occupation as I fear you shall frown upon it. It is not much but it is fantastic news for us. I will admit I was worried when we made the decision to leave but I know now that we have made the right choice. _

_ I assumed that His Majesty would give that particular order and I would never ask you for assistance. We have made our choice and we must accept any and all hardships that befall us. I am very glad that you chose to reply to my letter and I must say, My Lady, I very much miss you too. You were a good friend to me and I will admit I long for your company. You are a treasured companion and I am filled with sorrow at the likely thought that I shall not see you again. I am sorry to hear about Lady Weber. Do you know the reason for her distraction? She has a soft side for Cheney and I would not be surprised if he is the reason for her distraction. As to her fretting, I can understand how she feels. I myself worry after you, My Lady. I pray for the safe delivery of your child and that you remain in good health throughout the ordeal. _

_I must cut my letter short unfortunately, Jasper is home now and he will wonder where I am if I do not go down soon. _

_I hope to hear from you soon,_

_Alice_

_18th October 1833_

_Dearest Alice, _

_ Oh Alice, I would never ignore your letter! I have been waiting impatiently for your reply for some time. I had hoped you would be married sooner but I suppose these things take time. I did not plan my wedding so I am ignorant as to how long these things take to organise. I am glad that you are married now, though I had wished for more details about your day. What dress did you wear? Was he gentle with you? _

_ I am just glad that you have written at last. It is wonderful to hear that you are settled and that Jasper has found himself a position, though I wish you would confide in me, I promise I shall not judge him on his career choice. In fact, considering his age, Jasper is very lucky indeed to have found any employment other than with a regiment. I suppose most people are willing to help the son of the King regardless of the situation._

_ I wish I could see your home but again you did not share on details. I am most disappointed. How many rooms? Does your staff live in or elsewhere? Only two staff though! How will you both cope? _

_ I miss you too, Alice, more so now than when you left. I believe you are right! Angela seems distracted by my husband's valet! I witnessed it for myself only yesterday. We were in the sitting room; Edward and myself and I could see them glancing shyly at one another and smiling. It would not surprise me if they were to request our permission to court one another. I am sure Edward will grant Benjamin this and I would happily allow Angela the chance to find happiness. _

_You should not worry after me, Alice. You have your own life to worry over now; your own problems and I shall not burden you with mine. I am well, Edward is well and our child is well. There is nothing to worry you. I wish you all the best in your married life and hope that you will keep in touch._

_Isabella_

_5th November 1833_

_Dear Isabella, _

_ I am thrilled that you have written again and I apologise for the lateness of this reply. Setting up a home is more work that I would have predicted. Kate is a god send however and has helped me with all the everyday tasks that I have never had to complete before. She and Mrs Cope are the only reason that I have not been overcome with boredom. Since moving to Bath we have not been invited to any social occasion. I knew this would be the case but I shall admit I am tiring off this solitude already. Jasper tries to keep me company but he only has Sunday when he is not working and for most of Sunday we attend the service at our local chapel. We spend our nights together but is it wrong of me to wish for more? I should not be selfish. He is out earning and for this I should be grateful. Now, how is everything at Buckingham? I trust all is running smoothly as always though if memory serves me well I recall there never being a dull day. _

_ I suppose I must answer your question now, you did ask rather a few. I do not know how much I should disclose about my wedding, but I am sure I can answer your queries. I wore my pale blue dress, I wonder if you remember it? I wore it too your ball on the very first time I met Jasper. It seemed fitting to wear it. I had supposed that you would have concerns about my night. I enjoyed our time together immensely, the act itself was not entirely comfortable for the duration but nevertheless, I would not change it for the world. As for our household staff; Mrs Cope, as her name suggests, is married with two nearly grown sons and has her own home to run so she does not live in. Katie, on the other hand, was more than happy to do so. I will cope, My Lady, I have no choice but to do so. _

_ In regards to my worrying, I shall worry as much or as little as I please and there is nought you can to do to stop me. I hope all is well with you and the child. I expect you are tiring of the situation now. It cannot be easy to carry a child around in your belly. Although, I hope very much to be a mother, I do not wish it to happen as quickly as you were blessed. _

_ I am afraid I must leave my letter here, my friend, as unfortunately I have much to be getting on with. _

_ I shall write again soon,_

_Alice._

_19st November 1833_

_Dear Alice, _

_ I must apologise immensely for such a late reply, it has been over a month since my last letter! And what a month it has been! We have been preparing for Christmas you see and I have been made to endure countless visits from the doctor. His Majesty is insisting that Edward accompany them to Windsor Castle for the season but with the child due so soon, he would really rather stay in London. Esme is attempting to sway His Majesty but I doubt she will succeed. Of course this is causing him such distress, since the doctor is also concerned that I may go into early labour. The child is large apparently, which my doctor believes to be a cause for concern. Angela is understandably worried and I myself am concerned as to the outcome however there is little I can do to change whatever fate has in store for me. I must simply endure the winter months without him by my side and hope he returns in time for the birth of our child. I am aware that he cannot be present but I would much rather that he is close by. I am not looking forward to this Christmas since I shall be alone without him. Our first Christmas and he shall be in Scotland while I remain here in my bed, unable to leave it. _

_ I shall burden you with my troubles no longer and instead I must assure you that you are not selfish, dearest Alice. To wish to spend time with your husband is not a sin. Oh Alice, I long for my husband's company. I suppose it is common amongst us married women to wish to be by our husband's sides, though I should think that not all married women are happy with their lot in life. I am glad that you are happy with yours however. You have taken to married life with such ease it seems, you were surely meant for it. _

_ Of course, I remember your wonderful gown. How could anyone not? I think there were more eyes on you that night that any other woman in the room, including myself. I imagine you must have looked very beautiful on your day. I wish I had been free to choose my dress as you did. I surely would not have chosen white, if I had had a say. Never mind, it matters little now. _

_ I am sorry that I must cut this letter short but the doctor is due to visit this afternoon, and I must prepare myself. I know what he will say, he will put on bed rest the moment he measures my stomach. I am so large, Alice. I hate it with such a passion. I apologise for the countless complainants that I send in your direction and I wish you well. _

_ I hope to hear from you very soon, _

_ Isabella_

_29th November 1833 _

_My Dear Friend, _

_ First of all, I must scold you for the apologies that you sent in my direction. I do not wish to hear it. You are busier than me by far and I do not expect to hear from you daily or weekly and as for your complainants! I will always listen to you problems, My Lady and at this moment you have much to complain about. It is unnecessary to apologise. It is terrible to hear that His Majesty has decided to do such a thing. You should be allowed your husband's company over Christmas; His Majesty is cruel to deny you it. I do not know how I would cope without Jasper._

_I must ask; early labour? Does this mean the child will be born sooner rather than later? I see why you are worried My Lady, but I am sure the child will be completely fine. Worrying over things yet to come shall only cause you more problems. This may be a difficult suggestion but try to clear your mind of negative thoughts. I wish I could be there to keep your spirits up at such a tiring time. Please keep me informed as to His Majesty's decision. I hope he will change his mind for both your sakes. I would inform you of our plans for Christmas but I believe you have enough to occupy your thoughts and I will be content to share our holiday plans with you once the season has past. _

_All my love for the weeks to come,_

_Alice_

_23rd December 1833_

_Dear Alice, _

_ I wonder why you will not share your plans with me. I hope that you are not keeping this from me in order to prevent me further sadness as I should hope you are aware that your happiness could never cause me to be sorrowful. It gives me great pleasure to inform you_

The quill pen slid across the parchment before she could finish her sentence. A sharp pain had ripped up her side and caused a line of ink to mark the page. The Princess of Wales had been experiencing this discomfort for many hours, but had thought little off it until now. Her Ladies-maid's attention fell instantly upon her mistress.

"My Lady, are you quite well?" she enquired worriedly, rising from her perch and placing her needlework on her chair, before approaching the bed.

"I am unsure," she replied once she had found the strength to do so. Her breathing was laboured and she was beginning to worry. The pain she had just experienced was worse than the others by far.

"Should I send for the doctor?" she asked trying to conceal her panic from Isabella. Her Ladies eyes were wide with fear and she was clutching at her side, panting. Lady Weber, having never seen woman in childbirth, was as clueless to her mistress's problem as the Princess herself.

Isabella nodded frantically at Lady Weber's suggestion. She was concerned that the tiny aches and twinges had escalated into a searing white hot pain. It began to subside as Lady Weber headed out of her bedchamber to alert the appropriate people in order to bring the doctor to her. The Princess Isabella took hold of her portable writing desk and moved it to her side. Her letter to Lady Alice would have to wait until another day. She felt terrible that her reply would delayed yet again, as it was the arrival of her friends letter had been hindered by the heavy snowfall around Swindon and had not been delivered to her until yesterday morn. Her head fell heavily against the feather pillows and she took a few deep calming breathes. A few minutes past and Lady Weber did not return, but the Princess Isabella was plagued by pain once more. She groaned aloud and placed a hand against her abdomen. Her stomach tensed for the duration of the pain and she had the most worrying thought; could this be childbirth or the beginnings of it? If so, it was no wonder that the older women refused to discuss such things with their unmarried companions! But how could they withhold such vital information? The Princess Isabella was angered at the thought. She had been experiencing discomfort for most of the day, if only she had known what those little pains meant! They would have sent for the doctor many hours before.

The Princess Isabella did not witness her ladies maid return but heard the unmistakable creak of the aging hinges.

"My Lady?" Lady Weber's voice called anxiously from the doorway. "The doctor is on his way."

With pain still consuming her mind and body, she did not reply. Lady Weber stood by her Lady's side once her mind had cleared and she had regained some form of coherent thought.

_"Oh, Bella, I hate to see in such pain!" _Lady Weber stated reverting to hers and the Princess's native language in order to comfort her somehow, "_how can I be of help?" _

Panting only slightly, she replied honestly,_ "I am not sure that there is much to be done! Angela, I fear the child is coming." _

_"That cannot be. The child is not due for a fortnight or more." _Angela hastily argued, the doctor had explained that there was a chance of an early delivery, but Her Majesty had reassured them all that it was unlikely, regardless of the doctors concerns. _A first child is never born before its time,_ was her thought on the subject. She appeared wrong now however and the Princess Isabella was working herself into a state of panic. Her hand clawed at the covers and her body tensed visibly. At the sight of her mistress in such agony, Lady Weber began to agree with her mistress. The child was on its way.

_25th December 1833_

_Dearest Alice,_

_ I write with wonderful news! I am sure the newspapers will have announced the birth of mine and Edward's first child, or children I should say, by the time this letter reaches you. The Princess Elizabeth Isabella of Wales and the Princess Beatrice Esme of Wales were born yesterday weighing over 10lbs between them! Oh, Alice, I wish you could see them. They are simply precious! It is clear that they are similar to my mother and Esme and are non-identical. Elizabeth's hair is redder than her sisters but they appear to both have been blessed with curls. Their eyes are yet to be determined as to their colour, but I shall inform you once they change. _

_I have been advised to keep the details of the birth from you, as you are yet to go through the experience yourself. Childbirth is by far the most excruciating experience. I do not say this to cause you fear or worry. I do this as I was hours into my labour before I knew of it. I was writing to you when the worst of the pain stuck but until then I did not understand it. It is unimportant now however my two girls are here now. They are small but the doctor has declared them healthy and to me that is the most important thing of all. _

_I am also very glad to report that Edward did not go to Windsor after all. He told his father that he would not go and that no amount of persuasion or threats would force him to do so. How glad he was that he fought! The girls were born in the early hours of Christmas Eve and he visited me in the evening. He presented me with a trinket to celebrate their birth. I do not care for presents as much as I should, but Alice it was beautiful! A delicate gold and emerald locket with their names and the date inscribed inside. I am told that he had had it on hold in the jewellers until the birth and sent a messenger with the girl's names once we had agreed upon them. _

_I hope that your Christmas has been as wonderful and eventful as mine! _

_All my love,_

_Isabella_

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**They babies are here! :D Bet you weren't expecting that?! Hope you all enjoyed the chapter! There will be some very cute little family moments to come in the next chapter. Thanks for reading :) **

**Abbie **


	23. The Missing Twin

Hi all, sorry its been such a long time. Far too much to do and no where near enough time to do it all. Hopefully this chapter wont disappoint you, but I must warn that this chapter deals with infant death. It was terribly common in the days in which this fic is set and I didn't want to ignore that fact. Besides that, I've tried to end on a happier note. - Abbie x

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Chapter Twenty-One

The Missing Twin

27th December 1833

A mere day had passed since the birth of her daughters but now she simply lay within her sheets, her body aching beyond imagination as her thoughts drifted toward the nursery. She was still completely stunned by the appearance of the two girls that she had brought into this world only twenty four hours prior to this moment. She found this fact very difficult to digest. They had removed the babies before she could even feel their weight in her arms. Now her daughters were cared for by others. It would always be this way; she had known this but that did not mean that she was prepared for the empty feeling in her chest at their absence.

Her body was stiff from rest; her joints creaked like a rusted hinge on an unused door whenever she attempted movement. Even when she woke, she stayed very still. The doctor had informed her that movement would not be comfortable; he recommended that she stay abed for four to six weeks. How long she would be spending this way would depend upon her health. In truth, she had no desire to stay abed. The idea alone made her feel queasy. She'd spent too long within her chamber, she was tired of confinement. She longed for company and conversation, but most of all she longed for her children. It was not proper to care for them herself; she was off too higher rank to do so. She wished now that she had not been born a Princess, for all its perks there were far too many drawbacks.

Her nightdress was damp around her breasts when she awoke. Her body was crying out for her children and her mind was trying its very best to argue against it. Her internal struggle was in vain as she had known it would be. She needed to see her children, nurse them and care for them. Her body groaned and protested at the movement as she climbed delicately from her bed. If His Majesty should ever know of her visiting the girls, he would likely forbid her to see them until their first birthday. She did not care; she had to see them regardless of any punishment that may be thrown in her direction. Without a care for reprimand, she found her dressing gown and covered herself as best she could before sneaking out of her chamber in search of her newborn daughters.

As she approached the nursery, she was filled with fear. There was a high chance that the wet nurse would report her nightly venture to His Majesty. As she pushed open the heavy door, she could only hope that the woman could be convinced to keep her secret. A beautiful basinet was positioned in the centre of the room. With her newly born daughters only a few steps away from her, Isabella did not care about the woman who watched over the girls. Lady Victoria of Dover, head of the nursery, sat snoring lightly in a nursing chair opposite the basinets. Isabella paid her little attention and moved to stare down into the basinet. It was there that she paused. Beatrice was stirring gently in her slumber while her sister laid still. Isabella frowned at Elizabeth; her tiny face had seemed bright and rosy yesterday morning but now it was pale and almost grey in colour. The Princess knew with one look at her daughter that something was incredibly wrong. Beatrice appeared so full of life even while she slept, so there was no reason for her sister to appear otherwise.

The Princess Isabella stared down at the sickly child with absolutely no idea as to how to assist her young daughter. She could not recall ever being educated in preparation for this moment. She was extremely well read, spoke eight languages and could play three instruments flawlessly, but nowhere in her education had anyone prepared her for the task of motherhood. This was no ordinary situation she reminded herself but still she felt unprepared and terrified of failure. Thankfully, instinct assisted her with this task. Only a moment had passed since she had spotted Elizabeth's odd colouring when she scooped up the child; awakening her sister at the movement.

Beatrice wailed as her mother desperately tried to comfort her sibling and bring her out of her silence. The Princess Isabella was holding her child and patting the small child's back when the twin's wet nurse awoke. Lady Victoria rose from her seat instantly and fell into a curtsey at the sight of the Princess of Wales.

"Do not waste your time with pointless displays of courtesy!" The Princess of Wales exclaimed in her panic, "Something is wrong with Elizabeth, I pray you assist me!"

The older woman hurried over to the Princess and held out her arms to take the child from her.

"When did she fall ill?" the older woman questioned as she assessed the young babes appearance.

"I believe I should be asking you that particular question, Lady Victoria," the angered Princess spoke coldly. Lady Victoria said no more on the subject as she worked on the child.

Silence hung heavy in the room and the Princess of Wales knew that her child's life was in question. Her husband should have been with her but he was not and after many attempts to save the small child, their first born child passed into the hands of God. Many terrible things had happened in Isabella's life but this had to be the worst thing God had ever done to her. The Lady Victoria handed the still child to her mother and moved away to fetch help. Help was a pointless endeavour; Isabella knew this as she sank onto the floor clutching her tiny child. Elizabeth was gone and nothing anyone could do would restore her to life.

19th March 1834

Isabella held her daughter tightly in her arms as she headed for the gardens. It was the first day that the sun's rays had been strong enough to allow the young child to leave her nursery. She had begged the new nursemaid to allow her this moment. After the death of Elizabeth, a thought that still caused her pain even now, Isabella had demanded that the Lady Victoria be replaced. The cause of her infant's death was unknown but Lady Victoria's negligence could not be overlooked. She had left court only hours after Elizabeth's death and another nursemaid had replaced her. The Princess Isabella tried not to think of Elizabeth and focused her attention on her living child. At three months old, Beatrice was still highly dependent on the adults around her and the Princess would not let her out of sight for even a moment.

Holding her precious little one, she wondered through the idyllic gardens until she spotted a particularly sunny spot on the grass up ahead. Once there, she lowered herself ever so delicately onto the soft bed of fresh grass. The smell of roses and wild flowers wafted on the spring breeze as she settled herself down. Her floor length sapphire frock fanned out around her slim figure. The fine fabric of her gown made the perfect place for Beatrice to rest while enjoying her first taste of sunshine. Her daughter gazed up at the clear sky in wonder and her young besotted mother shared a similar expression as she looked upon her daughter.

Tragedy had separated her children from one another, and the Princess of Wales couldn't help but imagine that Beatrice was fascinated by the clouds simply because she could picture her missing twin among them. It was a fantasy, but one that kept her sane. Esme had told her after Elizabeth's passing that the hardest part of motherhood was the real possibility of losing a child. Just because the situation had almost been inevitable, according to her doctor, nothing anyone ever said would cure her broken heart. Isabella would carry that sorrow with her always, even when she was enjoying something as beautiful as the first day of spring, she would not forget her absent child. Beatrice's attention seemed to refocus; a tiny hint of a smile formed and for a moment Isabella wondered at the reason behind it that was until he spoke.

"Hello, my ladies," his voice caused delightful shivers to run down the length of her spine. Her husband kneeled onto the grass beside her, lending over to place a feather light kiss upon their child's brow.

"Your father would scold you, if he saw you behaving like that," Isabella pointed out reluctantly. His Majesty had been very clear that his son was not to pander to the child. Children had their mothers to provide affection and it was not a man's place to offer kisses or cuddles to anyone other than his wife, and even that must be carried out in the privacy of the bedchamber.

"If I cared, even a minuscule amount, as to my father's opinions I would not have followed you," he stated, changing the direction of his gaze from his daughter to his wife. Beatrice continued to half smile at Edward even though his attention had turned to his wife.

"And why did you follow me?" his wife questioned, scooping their child up into her arms. She revelled in the feel of baby soft skin against her own. Her child's tiny heart beat thudded gently against her own stronger beat.

"To tell you something that I do not think will make you happy," he admitted, his eyes dropping slightly. He was ashamed, it was clear from one simple look though why he felt this way, she did not know. She attempted to coax the message from him in a non-verbal manner; she did not succeed however and rose with difficulty from where she rested on the grass.

"Then let us walk," she suggested, as her husband assisted her in rising. He nodded once; suddenly shy, and allowed his wife to set the pace of their stroll.

They took a turn about the garden while Beatrice settled herself against her mother's chest, her father tried to summon the message that his father had ordered him to relay.

"Do you intend to share what it is that troubles you?" his wife questioned as the minutes ticked slowly by.

"I do," he replied, "I am simply attempting to rephrase it in a way that will cause the least offence."

The words continued to turn over in his head, rewording and reforming possible sentences for him to speak allowed. None ever seemed appropriate, however, and after a moment or two he came to a decision. There would never be a non-offence way of wording this. His father's words would cause his wife harm no matter how he said them and Edward did not ever wish to cause his wife any suffering even if it was sometimes unpreventable.

"My father has certain expectations about our union," was his opening sentence. Isabella knew exactly where this conversation was heading and she clung to her daughter to help her through it. She could not find the words to reply so simply nodded in response.

"He noticed a few days ago that I had not visited your chamber for some time and I must confess, he was not at all happy to realise this," Edward explained as delicately as was possible. This was not an easy subject to broach and he was trying hard not to shy away from it.

"And I suppose, he is much aggrieved that I am not already with child once again?" Her question was entirely appropriate as this was exactly the matter that caused his father concern. Edward nodded once in response; His Majesty had made it clear that he had been pleased at the safe delivery of Beatrice and Elizabeth the previous year, and he had obviously mourned the death of his granddaughter as much as the rest of the family, but he craved a grandson more than anything else in the world. Isabella felt tears sting at the corners of her eyes and turned her face away from her husband. The pair fell silent for a moment or two before Isabella spoke up.

"Explain to me because I can not understand, what is so wrong with a daughter?" Isabella demanded, growing agitated by the conversation. Her daughter was so precious to her that she could not see the harm in waiting just a few more months before she reprised her duties to her husband. She could not bear the idea of becoming with child again so soon after gaining her freedom from the ordeal of expectant motherhood. The idea of losing another babe circled through her mind also. There were so many thoughts swirling around her mind that she found it difficult to concentrate on her husband.

"There is nothing wrong with a daughter," Edward hurriedly replied, he loved his daughters more than he would ever admit, "I love both of our daughters and I always shall." Elizabeth may now be with God but he r father still cared for her deeply. A son would not bring him any greater happiness than his daughters had, although it would give his father cause to take a step backwards and allow him and his wife the freedom to live their lives without his continuous input. He hoped for this outcome anyway.

"Your father does not agree with you," his wife stated. Edward was very much aware of this fact.

"There are many things that my father and I disagree on; this is simply one of those things."

Isabella spotted a bench up ahead and made her way over to it. Walking with a child in her arms was proving more challenging than it probably should have. If she was allowed to spend more time with her child then maybe she would not find caring for her so strenuous.

"You may not agree with your father, but I take it that I should expect a visit from you tonight?" she questioned as she lowered herself onto the bench. Edward tried his utmost not to smirk at the idea of visiting his wife this coming evening but failed.

"I promise you, my darling, that should I visit you tonight then I will do so because I wish too, not because my father orders me to do so," he told her firmly. Their eyes met briefly and Isabella could not help but notice that simmering heat that burned beneath his gaze. Maybe she had denied him for too long, maybe it was time to allow their nightly ventures to continue. His longing was crystal clear as his mind journeyed back to their last night time union; it had been several months and he was eager to revisit that wonderful part of married life. One look told her all she needed to answer her previous question.

"So I will see you tonight," she stated before daringly breaking all the unspoken rules and leaning closer to her husband and lightly pressing her lips against his own. Once they had parted, she stood to full height and simply walked away. Her daughter had been exposed to plenty of sunlight for one day. Her thoughts turned towards the night ahead and she shivered in anticipation. It would surely be a night to remember.


End file.
